


Shut Up, and Ride

by BlessedMasochist



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlessedMasochist/pseuds/BlessedMasochist
Summary: Daryl x Reader/Self-Insert, Slow Burn, with subchapters of pure smut that can be read on their own or skipped as desired. [Currently: Chapter 9: Closer] The story takes place at the beginning of The Walking Dead TV series and moves forward with the canon plot with relatively little changes to the main storyline- If you've ever wished you could be a part of the original Atlanta Survivors group, this is the fic for you!"It was a classic 'love to hate' scenario. You'd seen it countless times on television and in the movies before the world went to shit, but it felt like the cliche still applied. What should you do with these feelings? Pack them up at hide them somewhere private, or challenge the hunter head on? There was only one place this road ever lead to after all, but what happens afterward? Do you go your separate ways or try to forge something worth saving in this world of decay?"





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this as a test chapter in what I hope to be a nice slow burn Daryl x Reader story with plenty of sexual tension and arguing while you sort out your feelings for each other. There will be erotic wrestling. There will be smut. Oh yes, ladies and gentleman ;) Takes place at the beginning of The Walking Dead Television show.
> 
> I encourage you to leave feedback and kudos if you like what you're reading and want more!

"Oh what the hell..." You mumbled, realizing your foot was caught as you nearly met the ground face-first. An attempt was made to pull your ankle free, but that only tightened the noose. A small silver bell jingled up in the branches of the massive dead tree that stood tall above, affixed to the end of the rope you were currently fighting with. Heart racing, you scanned the forest around you for signs of danger. It was quiet, without any signs of roamers. Exhaling softly, you twist around to get your backpack off, digging around its contents for something to cut the rope. _Can opener maybe?_ You weren't really been prepared to be on your own; A group of people from your city had taken up residence in a local supermarket, but it had been overrun. You had the foresight to have a backpack filled with canned food and spare clothing, but in the chaos there wasn't time for weapons or even a tent. A low, ominous whistle broke the silence of nature. You'd been lost in your thoughts, rummaging through your bag and hadn't heard anyone approach. "Well, well now~" Startled, you dropped the heavy bag, head whirling to face the sound as you scrambled to your feet. "Looks like we caught ourselves a rabbit, brother."

Two men stood at a distance, moving through the trees toward you in union. The one addressing you strode forward, rubbing his hands with a disgusting look of glee on his face. He was covered in grime, they both seemed to be. His buzzed scalp was sunburnt and peeling, and the smell of cigarettes and musk filled your nose as he moved closer.

"Hey there bunny, bunny." He cooed patronizingly, voice low and damaged from smoking. "What are you doing in my trap?" He tried to run his dirty fingers through your hair, but you wriggled out of his grasp, pivoting to put some distance between you. "It was an accident, obviously." You grit out, trying to appear intimidating. The other man finally stepped forward, a crossbow slung across his shoulder. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a mop of messy brown hair. Your eyes met his for a terse moment.

"C'mon Merle." He motioned. "Get her out of **my** trap and let's go. We can't eat her." He seemed exasperated by his brother's actions, but made no move to protect you from him. "I'd certainly give her a try." Merle cackled, licking his lips.

"Charming." You replied stonily. "If you'll just help me loosen this, I'll be on my way." Legs trembling, you began devising your escape. This man made you nervous. "Oh, but what if I want to keep you, bunny? You got a boyfriend?" Your face contorted in disgust. "I don't have anyone anymore, back the fuck off." You put more distance between you, but with your ankle still caught tight in the noose you were trapped.

A faint groan in the distance alerted the three of you to a lone corpse, ambling over the uneven ground towards the sound of your ire. What you wouldn't give for a gun to wave around right about now. "Alright, that's enough." You said sharply, pulse quickening as the hideous sounds of its breath drew closer. You didn't want the monster close enough to smell it.

Wrapping the rope around your hand, you pulled down hard, breaking off the thick, dead branch the noose was tied to, narrowly dodging as it crashed to the ground. Thinking quickly, you snatched it up, wielding it like a sword with the intent to defend yourself. From either 'Merle' or the walker you weren't sure yet.

"Aw, what the hell did you do that for you dumb bitch? I woulda let you go." Daryl grumbled, raising his crossbow to easily peg the unfortunate creature between the eyes with a bolt. It crumpled to the ground and he jogged over to retrieve his arrow, wiping the blood on his pants. You wrinkled your nose. "Merle c'mon, we need to check the other traps."

"Little brother, what have I _told you_ about being a cockblock?" His southern drawl was not charming in the slightest, and you held the branch up defiantly. "You have the wrong idea about me." You hissed. You weren't particularly strong, and you weren't particularly fast. You'd gotten this far because you were good at hiding, not fighting, and so far you'd only been running from the dead.

"Merle." The younger brother beckoned again, looking antsy. "Get the rope and let's **go**."

"But we just caught us somethin' yummy, Daryl." Merle took another challenging step towards you,  and your grip on the branch tightened. "I'm warning you, don't fucking touch me." He whistled again, closing in on you with a wolfish smile. With no choice left, you took a stance and swung with all your might.  
  
_CRACK_

You hadn't expected to hurt him, hell you weren't sure you would even land the hit, but those few years of softball in high school must have come in handy, because when that fat branch connected with Merle's smug face it knocked him out cold.

"Oh shit."

You dropped the branch and put your hands up, stepping backward as the man crumpled to the ground. Daryl ran forward with an angry look of concern on his face, and for a split second you were certain he was going to kill you. But then he just sort of... stood there over his unconscious brother, shaking his head. "'Bout time someone hit him upside the head, the horny bastard. Take more'n that to kill him." He spat and directed his gaze toward you. "Hold still, I want my rope back." He grunted, kneeling in front of you to grab your ankle. You stood awkwardly, poised on one foot as he carefully loosened the knot and freed you. "You got a name or should I keep callin' you Rabbit?" He smirked, winding the rope up around his hand.

"Its [Name]." You replied, stepping back to gather your backpack. "Daryl. You mean it when you said you ain't got anybody?" You nodded, pulling your backpack on. "Just you out here by yourself?" He sounded almost worried. Almost. "Damn, tough as nails aren't you?" You snorted. "I've had a lucky streak."

"Help me get my dumbass brother back to camp, they'll let you stay." He said, pushing his crossbow into your hands. "If they took me n' Merle they'll take anyone." Bending down, he pulled his brother into a seated position, holding him by the shoulders. You couldn't believe your luck. "There are others? Is the camp safe? How many people are there?" The bow was heavier than it looked, metal stock cool to the touch. You held it carefully as Daryl slid his hands under Merle's arms and hefted him up.

"It's safe. I dunno, there's about a dozen people." He grunted. It didn't look like this was his first time getting his unconscious brother from point A to point B. "I've already got that cocked. You see a walker, you grab a bolt, stick in that groove all the way back." You took an arrow in your fingers, feeling nervous. "Aim like you got a third eye right in the middle of your forehead and pull the trigger. Easy. You a good shot?" He asked, trudging forward, dragging his brothers feet along the dirt. "Hopefully we won't have to find out." You mumbled, scanning the treeline for movement and followed Daryl's lead.

It was a long walk, and it was taken in silence. Busy thinking about who might be at the camp, you didn't mind the lack of conversation. What sort of people are they? Was it even safe for you to go with this guy? You kept your mouth shut for the time being, as the sound of children playing lilted between the trees.

END CHAPTER ONE

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	2. Secret Stash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being welcomed to the camp by Andrea and Dale, you attempt to get some well deserved rest, but there are a few interruptions.

"Daryl!" A voice called out as a large RV came into view. An older looking man stood from a folding chair perched on the roof. "What happened to Merle? Was he bit?" Daryl offered no reply, but snatched his bow back from you before dragging his unconscious brother towards their tents on the outer edge of the camp. "Who are you?" A woman with blonde hair and rumpled sweatpants strode towards you defensively, a gun gripped in her right hand. Your hands shot up immediately as you took a few quick steps back. " [Name]! [Full Name]!"

"Easy Andrea!" The man had climbed down from the RV, coming to diffuse the situation. "Who is she Dale? What's going on with Daryl and Merle?" The man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Andrea, for God's sake, let her speak."

"I'm [Name]. I got stuck in one of their traps. There was a walker, I panicked and broke the trap. Daryl killed it but Merle was... He was being disgusting, so I hit him with a giant branch. I didn't mean to knock him out, I swear." The woman with the blonde hair lowered her weapon, and shook her head. "Should have known those two were the trouble." You lowered your hands and she extended one of her own in greeting. "I'm Andrea. Where did you come from?" Her hands were clean, cleaner than yours.

"I was hiding out with some people in a supermarket outside Atlanta, but it was overrun. I didn't have time to grab much, I've been on the move for... " You trailed off, suddenly aware of just how exhausted you were. "A few days, I think."

"Allow me." Dale stepped forward to take your bag. He was a funny looking fellow; short with thick eyebrows and wide, intense eyes. His floppy fisherman's hat seemed to tie in the hawaiian print shirt and cargo shorts somehow. "Would you like to get some rest? The RV is full at night, but everyone's up right now, I'm sure no one would mind if you lay down in the back for a while. It's not much, but there's a bed."

 _An actual bed._ You nodded, lowering your guard. "That would be amazing. Thank you... Dale, right?" Andrea took your bag from Dale and began to rummage through it, much to your dismay. "Hey, I told you I'd share my food!" You took a step forward. That bag and it's contents was all you had left in the world, and you found yourself suddenly defensive. "Just checking for weapons." She explained, rifling through your possessions. "If I had any weapons do you think I would have been carrying that crossbow when I showed up?!"

Blessedly, Dale stepped in, slowing Andrea and taking the bag from her. "She's right, give the girl a break and let her rest. Why don't you see if Amy needs any help with dinner?" Your tense muscles relaxed again. "Forgive me for not immediately trusting someone that the Dixon brothers dragged to our doorstep." She turned on her heel and marched towards the other side of camp, leaving you quite irritable. You scowled at her retreating back. 

"Andrea is all talk." Dale assured, motioning for you to follow. "Her younger sister Amy is all she has left, and you know how older siblings can be overprotective. She's trying to be strong for her." You nodded, following the grey-haired man up the steps into the RV. It felt just a hair cooler than the sweltering afternoon outside, and the shade was a blessing. You sighed in relief, taking in the interior and finding it just as eclectic as the man that presumably owned it. A bobbling palm tree was affixed to the dash, with plastic leis draped across the windshield. A small wooden sign hung on the wall above the kitchen table, inscribed with the phrase: _'How about a nice cup of shut the hell up.'_ You chuckled as you read it, admiring the small ceramic owl nestled in the corner below it. It was cozy, and a hell of a lot more homey than the shelf you'd been sleeping on at the supermarket.

"My wife and I bought this RV when we retired. I always thought it was a good investment, but I never thought it would save my life." He moved towards the back of the vehicle, set your backpack down beside the bed, and pulled the covers back hospitably. "I'll give you some peace and quiet, and wake you for dinner, how does that sound? We're having fish~" 

You smiled. This man was kind, almost fatherly. It was comforting to feel protected in that sense. "That sounds perfect, thank you." You sat on the end of the bed to give Dale enough room to back out. "I'll ask around and see if anyone has an extra tent. Sleep well!" He waved, turning about to leave the RV. You lay down slowly, still taking it all in. Though the air within the vehicle was a bit stale, the quilt and bedding smelled fresh and clean. You breathed in the scent, letting your eyes fall shut as you curled up on your side.

The RV door slammed open suddenly, and you sat up, heart pounding as you slid from the bed to stand, ready to fight your way out if it came down to it. "Easy there little Rabbit. Twitchy much?" Daryl stood at the front of the vehicle with a smirk.  "What do you want?" You asked irritably. You had been moments away from rest and could be a monster when you were tired. "None of your business." He replied flatly, kneeling down in front of the kitchen table to fidget with something. You couldn't tell what, and sat back on the bed uneasily. "Could you do whatever it is you're doing later? I'm fucking exhausted." He ignored you, but you could hear the rattling of pill bottles. "Seriously, what the hell? Who let you in here?" You grumbled crawling to the end of the bed to get a better look- Just in time to catch Daryl pull a giant zip-lock bag full of drugs out from behind a loose baseboard under the seat.

"You really got Merle good, he's finally woke up and bitchin' nonstop about his fuckin' head." He popped open the bag, digging around inside. It looked like a veritable smorgasbord of illicit substance, some familiar, some not. "Holy shit, is that pot?" You snorted, sliding off the bed entirely to get closer. "Back the hell up bitch." He hissed, turning his body away from you as he stuffed a bottle in his pocket. "Better find a new hiding spot." You winked, returning to the bed with a smug grin. Daryl scowled, shoving the entire bag down the front of his pants before storming out the door.

"Dickhead." You said aloud to the empty RV, falling back onto the mattress. You were too tired to investigate further. This time, there were no more interruptions, and you slipped blissfully into unconsciousness.

END CHAPTER TWO

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	3. Sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get washed up, and Dale introduces you to the rest of the camp. Daryl offers you his own brand of hospitality.

It was nearly dark outside when you awoke to the sound of knocking. The smokey smell of fire danced in the air, along with something else that had your mouth watering. "Rise and shine!" Dale called from the end of the RV. "I got some clean clothes for you down here on the kitchen table. You can use the sink to clean up, there's fresh rags in the cabinet underneath. Later on I'll have one of the ladies take you to the lake and you can have a real scrub if you'd like." You sat up and stretched your arms over your head, feeling disoriented, but much less exhausted. "Thank you Dale, I really appreciate your hospitality." The man had no reason to be so kind, especially with the current state of the world. You admired him for his positivity, something you were having trouble grasping lately. "I'll introduce you to everyone when you get out here." The cheery man waved and dipped back out. Another stretch, and you scoot out of the bed and wobbled over to the sink. You pulled off your dirty clothes and set them in a pile by your feet, acutely aware of how sore your muscles were. Everything ached. Wrinkling your nose at the smell wafting off your skin, you bent down to grab a washcloth, wasting no time getting it lathered with some soap. You'd kill for a real shower, but at least you wouldn't smell like dirt, sweat, and guts anymore.

Suddenly, the RV door slammed open, hard enough to bounce off the adjacent wall. You nearly jumped out of your skin. Half naked, your only weapon was the bubbly rag you'd been scrubbing with, and you didn't hesitate to launch it at the intruder. "What the hell, bitch?" Daryl spat, swatting the wet projectile out of the air easily. "Don't what the hell me, get out!" You hissed, fighting the flush that threatened to bloom across your face. There was no way you were giving him the gratification of seeing you cower and try to cover yourself. "You get out." He replied, roughly pushing past you to crouch in front of the table again, digging around in the baseboard. "Are you serious right now you?" You pushed at his back with your foot aggressively, but he shrugged out of the way as he emerged with a couple of glass pipes and several bic lighters. "You couldn't have waited five seconds for me to put some fucking clothes on to get your shit, you dick?" He stood over you with a sour expression. "You tell Merle to wait five more seconds an' see how that treats you, sunshine." He pushed past you again. "Would you just leave?" He lingered by the door, turning to face you again.

"What if I stay?" He taunted, haunting blue eyes deliberately lingering in places they shouldn't. Your [color] eyes locked with his. "What if I smash you in the face like I did your brother?" You snarled, glancing around the RV for potential weapons. Daryl bent and picked up the fallen washcloth between his fingers, whipping it back at you. It slapped your shoulder and clung wetly as it slid down your arm. "Fuck you!" You grabbed the cloth tightly in your fist. "Maybe later." Before you could reply or even object, he was out the door again. You were trembling with anger, but there was something else underlying, something you weren't quite ready to acknowledge. You made quick work finishing your scrub, and rinsed off as best you could. The clothing Dale had left you looked like it came straight out of his own closet. Another loud print Hawaiian top and a pair of cargo shorts. It was a kind gesture, but you preferred something a bit closer to your size. Shuffling over to your bag, you dug out a pair of jeans and a top and pulled them on. You paused a moment on your way out the door, turning to slide the festive polyester shirt on over your tank top with a smirk.

"Speak of the devil, there's our mystery gal!" You peered out into the darkness, a small crowd of people illuminated by the orange glow of the fire's embers. Dale motioned you over, and you approached reluctantly. Being the center of attention wasn't your favourite, but you managed a lopsided smile as he marched you in front of everyone. "This is [Name], everyone." He went around the circle, naming each person as he went. Here we've got Andrea- you met her already, but there's her sister Amy." You nodded. "Lori and Carl." A mother and son, both with dark hair, offered you a thin smile and a wave. "Ed, Carol, and Sophia." A timid mouse of a woman sat close under her hulking husband's careful eye. They did not smile. Their daughter sat at his feet, picking at her fish. "Glen, Jim, and T-Dog." Each raised their hand as their name was called out, Glen grinned at you. "Morales, and his family Miranda, Louis and Eliza." The children bickered back and forth between themselves, oblivious to the introduction, their parents managed a polite nod. "Jaqui." She looked up from the novel she was struggling to read by the light of the embers and offered you a brilliantly white smile. "Only person left is Shane, but he's out walking the perimeter. You can meet him later." Dale pushed a metal plate into your hands. The smell of freshly seared trout made your mouth water. After a week of nothing but canned vegetables, you were eager to sink your teeth into some meat. "Thank you." You uttered gratefully, sucking the flakey skin off the bone noisily.

"So [Name]..." Glen addressed you between bites. He looked the closest to your age out of everyone else, and you studied his face as he spoke. "How did you wind up here?" He was clearly of asian decent, though from where you weren't entirely sure. His eyes were dark, as was his hair, tucked snugly beneath a baseball cap. "I was holed up in a grocery store, but someone got bit and all hell broke loose." A few people, Lori and Carl, Carol and Sophia, listened casually as you spoke. "Didn't have time to grab much on my way out, but I've got a ton of canned veggies to add to the food pile. Mostly carrots and corn, but I have a few other things too." Everyone tittered quietly among each other, clearly pleased to hear that you had come with 'benefits'. "You guys like that? I can do you one better. The supermarket I was holed up in can't be too far from here. It was chaos before, but I'll bet it would be easy to get in and out with a group. Get me a map, I'll mark it for you." Dale took your empty plate and pushed a creased map into your hands. You unfolded it, scanning for familiar roads. "The camp is here." Glen pointed to where it was marked on the map. "Ah, excellent. That means the shop is..." You traced along the marked road lines with your finger tip. "Here." You tapped. Dale reclaimed the map to circle the spot. "We can put together a team tomorrow. We don't have any extra tents, but we can pick up a few on the run. Does anyone have any space for [Name] to crash tonight?" Carol opened her mouth to speak, but Ed yanked on her dress, quieting her. "I'll take her." A gruff voice broke the silence, sending a chill down your spine. It was Daryl, lurking unseen in the dark just outside the ember's glow. A cigarette burned bright in his mouth. You opened your mouth to protest, to come up with a reason to avoid the thorn in your side, but he cut you off. "Merle ain't too happy 'bout his shiny new black eyes, so you need lookin' after while he cools off." A murmur rippled through the ring of survivors huddled around the dying fire. Clearly, nobody wanted much to do with the Dixons. "I don't need a babysitter." You scoffed, turning away from him. "Suit yourself." He murmured, eyes burning into your back. "Hey." Glen whispered, motioning for you to lean in. "Daryl's a prickly guy but he's nowhere near as bad as Merle. If he's offering to watch your back, I'd take him up on it. He's not that bad, just a bit hotheaded." You rolled your eyes and whispered back. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the air was sticky and heavy with moisture, thick clouds rumbled overhead. You were still by the fire pit, though the flames had died out. Shane had returned from his security check and given you a quick hello before retiring with Lori and Carl. One by one everyone said goodnight, and you were left alone in the dark with Daryl. "It's gonna rain." He said. "You can smell it in the air, you really wanna sit out here in the rain all night?" Truly, you weren't exactly eager to sleep outside unprotected, much less outside in the rain. "Alright Dixon, you win. I want to sleep in the rain less than I want to share a tent with you." He flicked his second cigarette of the evening into the dirt, grinding it out with the heel of his boot. "Grab your shit and c'mon." You heft your bag over your shoulder and shuffled after him. "Shh." He hushed, waving his hand back at you without looking. "I didn't say anything." You whispered back harshly. "You sound like a goddamn boar out looking for truffles in the woods. Lift your feet when you walk. You keep quiet so Merle doesn't know you're with me." Brilliant, he had silenced you indefinitely. You scowled at his retreating back as you followed.

The brothers had their own personal camp set up on the outskirts of the main camp beneath a cluster of trees. Your skin prickled as your ears picked up on the sound of Merle talking to himself. The inside of his tent was glowing, lit by a single flashlight that cast an eerie shadow. Daryl made no move to interact with his brother and nudged you towards a tent about a yard away. It was even smaller than Merle's, and you were not looking forward to spending the sweltering night in such close quarters with Daryl. He unzipped the tent and motioned for you to climb inside while he sat in the dirt, pulling off his boots. You ducked inside. The interior was underwhelming, a lone sleeping bag unzipped and spread out on the floor. It smelled musky, like sweat and earth. A battery-powered lantern sat in the corner, and you leaned forward to flick it on, bathing the tent with a faint electric glow. You sat awkwardly on the ground, taking off your own shoes and setting them aside. ' _At least I have a pillow.'_ You thought, yanking it out of your bag. Daryl joined you inside after a moment, scooting past you to lay down with a soft grunt. You remained seated, unsure whether or not to lie down on the sleeping bag with him or lie in the cramped empty space by in the doorway.

A rustling of fabric drew your eye; Daryl was taking off his pants. Unbelievable. You opened your mouth to protest- then closed it again as you recalled his warning about revealing your presence to Merle, who still lay only feet away from where you sat. Sensing your glare, Daryl looked up and met your eyes with a smirk. He tossed his belt and jeans carelessly into a heap by his feet and rolled over to dig through his bag. This gave you a rather intimate view of his ass in the tight cotton boxers he was wearing. You studied the curve of his hip, the dramatic angle of his torso, his broad shoulders, and toned arms. Part of a faded tattoo peeked out from under the edge of his dirty wifebeater, along with what looked a scar. When he rolled back over he was holding one of the glass pipe you'd seen him with earlier. You arched an eyebrow as he placed a small metal grinder on the sleeping bag beside him. He motioned for you to sit closer as he screwed opened the grinder and packed the bowl full of pungent-smelling herb. You tossed your pillow beside him and crawled over reluctantly. "I ain't gonna bite." He murmured, bringing the pipe to his lips and flicking a lighter. Another bout of thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain began to sprinkle down, tapping on the roof and walls of the nylon shelter you found yourself staying in. It was a comforting sound, but it did little to dispel the stiff atmosphere between you. "You get high?" He asked quietly.

The last time you'd smoked weed was in college. It had been maybe two or three years ago, out in the college parking lot, sitting in your classmate's big black van trying not not to look suspicious while you got high before class. You paused a moment to think of those classmates, people that you had spent so much time with only to lose touch. How many of them had survived? Most were probably dead by now. Daryl exhaled slowly, smoke hanging heavy and thick in the air. After a moment, he pushed the pipe into your hand. You looked over at him, fingers closing around the glass object apprehensively. He handed you the lighter, a scratched gas station Bic with a skull drawn on the side. You were unsure, was this an apology or a ruse? He wasn't looking at you anymore. At his point, anything was a welcome distraction from the hellscape that was the world now. _'Fuck it.'_ You decided to take the offer and see what followed, bringing the pipe to your mouth. You took a shallow hit and exhaled, suppressing the urge to cough. The smoke slowly wafted up and out of the tent's netted canopy. The pair of you sat like that in silence for awhile, passing the pipe back and forth as you slowly settled into a quiet calmness together. It was such a casual setting, yet the moment felt somehow intimate, cathartic. The rain's patter drowned out the sound of Merle's intoxicated ramblings, and your mind was blessedly empty of anxious thought. All that existed was the inside of this tent.   
  
When the bowl was kicked, Daryl put everything away and lay down, arms crossed behind his head. He hummed contentedly as he settled in. You were even warmer now than before, skin damp with sweat. Daryl watched lazily as you peeled off your jeans and tank top and chucked them in the corner. Dressed down to your underwear and feeling much more comfortable, you face planted into your pillow with a satisfied groan. "You're alright Dixon." You murmured, nudging his shin with your foot as you got as comfortable as you could manage on the lumpy sleeping bag. He snorted softly, shutting his eyes. You did the same, and almost immediately found yourself in sleep's peaceful embrace.

END CHAPTER 3

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	4. Axed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your morning with Daryl is a little more intimate than you bargained for.  
> Later, with the help of Glen, you form a plan to raid the grocery store for what was left of the canned goods. Shane and Daryl agree to join in, but there are more Walkers than you bargained for. Will the mission be a lost cause or will you find a way to get what you need?

The sun was creeping over the tree line when you awoke, a warm glow faintly illuminating the tent's interior. It was quiet, with only the timid sounds of nature making noise. Something heavy was laying warm across your hip and side, hot breath tickling down the back of your neck. You opened your eyes, glancing down to find Daryl's arm and leg wrapped around you like a python. His stubbled face was buried in the back of your dirty hair. "Daryl." You hissed, wriggling gently in an attempt to free yourself. The man grumbled, tightening his grip to pull your hips closer. He ground against you shallowly.

Oh god. He was hard.

Eyes widening, you repeated your plea. "Dixon, wake up, seriously." You squirmed, face hot. You couldn't remember the last time you'd shared a bed with another man, much less been the victim of the notorious morning wood. "Mm... Mornin'." He breathed, finally rousing. "You wanna let go of me?" You asked sharply. His limbs withdrew and he grumbled, curled on his side sleepily. Rolling your eyes, you sat up, stretching to retrieve the clothing you had shed the night before.

It was fortunate that no one else at the survivors camp wanted much to do with Daryl or his older brother, this was a bit too compromising of a situation for you to deal with explaining. You pulled back on your jeans and yanked on your top. "You leavin' already cotton tail?" Daryl asked, sounding a bit disappointed. "What do I need to stay in here for?" You asked, tying your shoes. "Honestly I was sorta hoping you'd blow me. He replied smarmily. It took a lot of self-control to keep your eyes above the belt as you turned to face him. "Oh please Dixon, I might be cheap but I ain't free." You taunted back, shouldering your heavy bag. Turning to unzip the tent flap, you climbed out.

A low, familiar whistle called out to you, filling you with dread. "I knew my little brother loved rabbit stew but this is too much~" Merle cowed at you from his spot in front of the fire he had started. He was roasting what looked like the remains of a squirrel, beady eyes looking you up and down behind puffy purple eyelids. That stick had done a number on his face for sure. You froze where you stood. "Look Merle-" "Listen now, I know you like me, but what sort of big brother would I be if I took my little brother's woman?" You wrinkled your nose in disgust at the implication, and you could hear Daryl cackling in the tent behind you. "I... gotta go get breakfast." You blurted, jogging away from the situation as quickly as your legs could carry you, bag thumping against your hip as you moved toward the center of camp.

Slowing as you reached the communal area, you came to a stop at a rickety picnic table. You seated yourself and dug a can of peaches out of your bag. Considering what you used to eat for breakfast, it was practically a balanced meal. You used your fingers to pick the sweet fruit out of the can, popping bites into your mouth as you recalled the poor eating habits of your past. 'I'd kill for a burger right now.' The peaches were adequate, and you finished the can off without hesitation or remorse.

"Hey [Name], good morning." Glen greeted you, rubbing the sleep from his left eye. "Hey Glen." He was wearing the same clothes he was in yesterday, but you supposed that was normal now. After all, you were wearing the same stuff as before too. "I figured you and I could start planning the grocery run. I'm usually the one that takes care of stuff like that. Quick in, quick out." You nodded, passing him a can of peaches amicably. "Here, you'll need the energy." Glen’s eyes lit up. "Holy shit, I love peaches, thanks." he grinned, taking the can eagerly. "I figure we might as well enjoy stuff now, who knows which moment's our last. What'd you do before all this?" You asked curiously.  
"Pizza delivery. That's part of why I volunteer to go on runs, I'm good with directions, and I know most of the cities and roads in the area in ad out of Atlanta. What did you do?" The memory roused a groan from deep within your soul. "Starbucks." Glen winced. "Oof. I am so sorry." You laughed. "I think I actually prefer the apocalypse. Better than making 'two venti Frappuccino with 16 pumps of mocha and 6 full pumps of peppermint and two shots of espresso, extra ice.'" You mimicked an old 'regular' customer’s terribly inconvenient order. Glen laughed in disbelief. "I had a guy who would call once a week to order two large pizzas with nothing on them. Nothing at all! No cheese, no sauce, just crust! It felt like an insult driving to deliver it."

The two of you carried on like that for a while, reminiscing about how terrible minimum wage service jobs were. The jovial conversation was eventually interrupted by Shane, who was itchy to get going and wanted everyone to get prepped for the run. It was a hot day, and Lori passed out bottles of water to the members of the 'raid party'. The three of you pulled on empty bags, and Shane passed you a long wood-handled axe. It was hefty and well balanced as you gave it a few test swings, silver blade glinting sharply in the morning light. "How come you're the only one that gets a gun?" You asked him, spying it on his hip. "Gun's our last resort; the sound will attract every walker in the area." He said, pulling out a large knife. Glen wielded a metal little league baseball bat, tucked under his belt while he studied the map.

"The store isn't far enough away to waste the gas, so I figured we'd keep a tight rank and leg it over. If it's still overrun we bail and try again later." Glen explained. "The store has two front entrances, an employee side door and a loading dock out back." You informed him, recalling the layout. "Everything should still be unlocked, but the front doors will be the path of least resistance. If the front doors aren't the best path, the loading dock will give us the most cover for a second attempt." They both nodded.  
“I wanna join in.” Daryl had approached the small group suddenly from behind, already set to go with his crossbow slung over his shoulder. You made a sour expression, but Glen and Shane seemed to have no qualms letting him come along for the extra support. “Alright then, let’s head out. There haven’t been many geek sightings in these woods, but if the store was overrun we could hit some trouble when we get closer, so stay sharp.” Glen tucked the map in his back pocket and the bat out of his belt loop, motioning for the rest of the party to follow his lead.

The four of you moved at a moderate pace through the wooded area, grateful for the cover of the trees as the sun climbed hotly into the sky. You reached a clearing as you grew closer to the store, and you could spot several corpses ambling about the parking lot. “Alright, weapons at the ready everyone.” Shane instructed. You gripped the axe in your hands tight, mentally preparing yourself for the violence that lay ahead. When you finally drew close enough to engage, Daryl drew first blood pegging a walker with a well-aimed arrow. The corpse fell, drawing the attention of the other five. "Steady now." Shane moved to the outside left while Glen crossed right. You took a breath and charged, avoiding eye contact with the monster as you swung the axe as hard as you could, bringing it down to split the head of the gurgling abomination down the middle. Gasping, you pulled hard to dislodge it as a second creature came at you. Glen and Shane were grappling with their own walkers, unable to come to your aid.

An arrow whizzed by your ear, taking the corpse down as it reached to grab you. You turned your head to nod at Daryl gratefully, heart pounding. The five initial walkers were down, but the sound of the embroilment drew more, several more, and the four of you exchanged worried glances. "There are a lot of them guys. Do we want to call this?" Shane barked. At least a dozen were in view now, blocking your access to the front doors.  
The outlook was looking more and more grim.

END CHAPTER 4

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	5. Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultimately, the run was a success, but you manage to narrowly avoid death a few too many times for comfort, and your mind begins to boil down to its most basic instincts. Tensions burn at their highest, but Glen gets the wrong idea. 
> 
> Oh yeah, and Lori's dead husband Rick Grimes came back from the grave to reunite with his family. Where's Merle?

At least a dozen walkers were in view now, blocking your access to the front doors.

"I've got an idea." You said, thinking quickly. "I'm going to lead them around back to the loading dock. You guys break in through the front, and let me in the back entrance. The doors have been closed, if there are any dead inside there shouldn't be more than three or four. There weren't many of us, but I don't know how many of them got away." The group stood their ground as a dozen or so of the dead clambered from around the side of the building. "Shane, you and Daryl clear the store and I'll run for the back, I'm the fastest." Glen shouted.

You steeled yourself and broke away from the group, sneakers slapping the pavement as you ran straight towards the creatures that wanted to rend your flesh.  That got their attention fast, and they headed in your direction, sickening moans clinging to your ears. You needed to hold their attention while the guys broke in the front door, you had to be louder than the sound of Glen breaking in the front door with his bat.

Gulping down air, you did the only thing you could think of. You began to sing, holding onto your weapon for dear life as you broke out into a run.

"COME ON FEEL THE NOISE!  
GIRLS ROCK YOUR BOYS!  
YOU'LL GET WILD,  WILD, WILD!"

It was one of your favourite songs, and it was the first thing to climb into your fear stricken brain. The walkers abandoned their interest in the sound of breaking glass,  lunging after you as you sprinted around the side of the building, screaming out the sounds of Quiet Riot at the top of your lungs.

There were two more dead to meet you as you rounded the corner, and you shouldered between them with a gutteral cry, pushing with all your strength. You broke through, arms smeared with their dark, dead blood, but otherwise unscathed. Still they pursued, and you continued your ballad as you made a break for the loading dock.

"SO YOU THINK I'VE GOT AN EVIL MIND-  
I TELL YOU HONEY. I DON'T KNOW WHY,  
I DONT KNOW WHY!"

A hoard of at least 15 walkers were on your tail, teeth clacking together hungrily as they gasped and groaned after you. Your lungs were on fire, and you vaulted the railing of the loading dock ramp with a shout. Your foot caught at the last minute, sending you hurtling for the concrete. Your nose took the brunt of it, bleeding freely down your chin as you scrambled to your feet towards the door. The railing had hindered the walkers, but they were making their way around with a frightening speed. "Come on Glen, come on Glen." You chanted, a hundred feet between you and what you hoped would be safety.

It was still shut when you reached it, and you whirled around to face your impending doom, axe at the ready. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You were cornered. If Glen didn't open that door you would be mincemeat in 30 seconds or less. With a primal cry, you held your weapon sideways, using the handle to push the dead back as they tried to close in on you.

"I'm not ready to fucking die!”

The door behind you clicked and swung open. “[Name!]” Glen called out as you slammed your hatchet into the closest walker. You turned on your heel and slid inside quickly, door slamming shut behind you with a deafening thud. You fell to your knees, body trembling against your command. “Holy shit. I thought I was dead for sure.” You gasped, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “Are you okay? Can you stand?” Glen asked quickly. “We need to get back and help Shane and Daryl clear the store.” He pulled you to stand, and the pair of you moved into the main part of the building.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence hung in the building, permeated by the muted sounds of a scuffle. "You take left side, I'll go right." Glen said, jogging to sweep his end of the building. Shane had put down a walker trapped under a fallen display. You heard a grunt and the sound of bodies hitting the floor as you ran to the far wall and rounded the corner towards the sound. Daryl was pinned under a familiar-looking Walker, struggling to get the upper hand.

Pulsing with adrenaline, you dropped the axe and barreled towards the scuffle, tackling the grotesque puppet off Daryl using the weight of your entire body. You landed on top of the putrid corpse, rolling off quickly as the stench filled your nostrils and clung to you. Daryl snatched a rolling pin off the aisle wall and beat the abominations head in with a repetitive, sickening, thud.

It was quiet again, and your eyes locked, chests heaving in union. Something animalistic snapped inside you, and you stalked toward him, heart pounding. He had a few inches on you, and you circled one another like wolves. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as Shane and Glen clambered around the corner. "Are you guys alright?"

The two of you stepped back, tearing your eyes apart from each other. "Just saving his life, no big deal." You coughed, wiping more blood from your face. "Payin' me back from earlier, cotton tail." He growled. You went back for your axe, wiping the gore from the blade on your pants. "Let's leg it to the canned goods and take what we can." Shane instructed, motioning for everyone to fall in behind him.

Everyone shoveled what was left of the canned vegetables into your backpacks, along with the SPAM, soup, and any other items with an expiration date that was well in the future. "Let's see if there's any water left, I know people buy it up in a panic." Glen and Shane headed for another aisle, while you scanned the rows for anything useful.

The acidic taste of blood lingered in your mouth, though the flow of blood from your nose had finally stopped. You licked your lips, slowing as you passed an end cap stocked with condoms. Daryl wasn't far behind you, blue eyes meeting yours once again. In a brazen move, you didn't tear your eyes away as  you pulled a pack off the wall and stuffed it in the outside pocket of your backpack. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth with a soft hiss.

"Alright let's get out of here." Glen called out hovering awkwardly at the end of the aisle he had emerged from. "Yup." Daryl grit out, turning on his heel to brush past the korean towards the front of the store. "Prick." You mumbled, following after him. "Hey c'mon guys we did good here, let's not fight." Glen called, misinterpreting the energy between the two of you.

The return trip was slower than the initial journey, each of you burdened with a heavy bag. "You kicked ass back there [Name]." Shane complimented. "Haven't heard a better rendition of that song in my life. That was bad ass."  You grinned, groaning slightly at the ache in your face. "I had to drown out the sound of you guys breaking in and that was the first thing I could think of." All four of you were still buzzing with addictive adrenaline, but you and Daryl exchanged glances that shared something more heated.

The group arrived at camp to a round of applause from those that saw you, and Dale hurried to pull everything out of the cabinets in the RV to make room for the food. After everything was loaded, you broke away from the group to grab your bag, pausing to ask someone for directions to the quarry lake Dale had mentioned. You needed to get the disgusting mess off of you ASAP.

Stumbling down to the waters edge, you moved beside a grouping of boulders to undress. Privacy didn't exist anymore, but at least your body was partialy obscured. The sound of the water's gentle movement was almost soothing as it lapped against the shoreline. You took a final glance to your surroundings before easing yourself into the tepid water.

Congratulating yourself for snagging a proper bar of soap, you scrubbed yourself from head to toe. It felt so good to be free of the smell of death. Your muscles were on fire, as were more intimate areas. That run could have ended so badly; you could have died luring those Walkers, you could have died saving Daryl, he could have died saving you. Your mind whirled, but your body ached for the most carnal of comforts. Thinking it unwise to linger, you slipped out of the water.

Supposing towels were now a luxury of the past, you wrestled clothing onto your wet body. It was uncomfortable, and your cotton t-shirt clung tightly to your skin. You gathered your bag and hiked your way back to the camp, only to be intercepted by the hunter himself. Daryl was still filthy, skin slick with sweat, dirt, and dead blood. "You were somethin' back there, [Name]." He said, eyes traveling down your body. Your shirt left little to the imagination. You could feel a heat growing within you, and you took a step forward.

One more step and the wolf closed the gap, licking his chops in anticipation of his feast. He pressed himself against you without reservation, looking down into your eyes hungrily. You pressed back agressively, wordlessly, as you sized each other up.

"Don't push me Dixon." You said lowly, pressing your palm against his chest to push him away from you. "Oh yeah, and what if I push you?" He grabbed your hips roughly, forcing you to your knees on the grass in front of him. You allowed this only for a moment, casting a defiant gaze before you headbutt him in the stomach, knocking him on his ass. That opening was all you needed.  You launched yourself on top of him, seizing the upper hand as you straddled his hips. One hand fell on his wrist, one hand on his throat in a bruising grip.

Daryl moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. His hips rolled up against you eagerly, cock straining against the front of his jeans. "Oh you dirty freak." You whispered, fingers faltering slightly as a deep wave of pleasure radiated throughout your body. He took advantage of your weakness to quickly flip you on your back. There was a brief scramble for power that Daryl ultimately won, looming over you with a low growl. "I'm gonna fucking tear you apart."

"Get off her!" A shout from the direction of the camp broke the tension, and alert your gaze to Glen. He was sprinting in your direction, waving his hands over his head. "Daryl! [Name]! Knock it off! I don't know what the hell is going on between you two, but whatever it is, you don't need to resort to physical violence! Go cool off, go eat lunch!"

You hadn't realized your nose was bleeding again, lips slick with wet blood. The both of you seperated, clambering to your feet defensively. Once again, Glen had misinterpret the situation. It certainly wasn't something either of you wanted to explain, so wordlessly, the both of you wandered off in seperate directions. You ended up in the center of camp, angrily tearing into a can of cold spaghettios when a horrible, ugly thought pushed its way into your mind.

You had forgotten to pick up a tent.

"Fuck!" You shout in frustration. "[Name], I'd appreciate if you'd watch your mouth around the children." Lori snapped at you, looking startled. Carl and Sophia were too busy playing a board game to even giggle at the naughty word. "Sorry Lori." She and Shane had been in an argument when he returned and she was looking for an excuse to take it out on someone. You slunk away to sulk in the woods.

That night you slept alone in a crawlspace hidden under the RV, curled up with your new best friend, the axe. You awoke the next morning early to the sound of a camp meeting. Apparently yesterday's score wasn't enough for Glen's ambition, and by noon he had already begun to form a group to tackle an area just inside Atlanta that he had been to before to secure more clean water. They would have to take a larger party with some muscle, and a truck to load the water barrels into.

Anyone that volunteered was welcome on the mission, and at the end of it the team stood; Glen, Jaqui, T-Dog, Morales, Merle, and Andrea. There were murmurs of doubt, whispers that some of the participants were joining the mission for personal reasons, but as long as the water was retrieved, it wouldn't matter. You participated in planning, but opted to take it easy and sit this run out. Your face was swollen and sore, muscles protesting every movement. A commotion from over by the RV caught everyone's attention. Amy was fumbling with the CV radio. A signal had come through, crackling faintly on the channel. Nearly entire camp was crowded around before long, and you slipped back to watch from afar. Shane repeatedly attempted to make contact, but the signal was lost.

"If they're headed for Atlanta they need to be careful or they'll wind up trapped in a swarm of geeks." Glen said. "We should head out, maybe we can make contact." Most everyone murmured in various stages of agreement and disagreement. Merle seemed itchy to leave as soon as possible. After a brief debate, they geared up, piled into the largest vehicle available, and headed out. Idly, you wondered if Daryl even knew his brother had left the camp. You hadn't seen him since your encounter the day before.

You sighed, and spit in the dirt beside your chair. "[Name], If you can't behave like a lady why don't you go out somewhere else and stop polluting the camp." Ed raised his voice at you. "Ed, honey, she isn't bothering us." Carol said timidly. "Shut up. I don't want a dykey hellion like that around my little girl putting ideas in her head. She can go rot with the methhead and the stoner." Your blood was boiling, fingers curled over the edge of your seat as you stood abruptly. "With all due respect Ed, Fuck you."

You stormed away, amidst Lori crowing about using appropriate language. It was beginning to feel like safety in numbers would drive you to madness. But then something happened that would change things. Something straight out of the movies. A saviour emerged, the dead came back to life, but not in the way that we usually feared. While Glen's team was out on their run, they encountered and saved the life of Rick Grimes. This man was reunited with his son and wife, and you nearly cried witnessing the tender reuinion.

But there are only brief moments of happiness in this new world. Merle had not returned from their journey and it sent Daryl into a hotheaded tailspin. He tried to attack the man he felt responsible, only to be taken down in a splendid show of police brutality. Apparently Merle had gotten out of control and they handcuffed him to a roof. You bit your tongue to keep quiet, but couldn't help a smirk. 'Justice.'

Daryl demanded they go back for his brother, and in the end, it seemed we had no choice but to go back to Atlanta, but not just for Merle. Rick told us about a bag of guns he'd dropped in a struggle, and it was too valuable not to go back for. Everyone ate well that night, using the food retrieved on the grocery run to make a hearty soup. It seemed more conflict lay ahead, but for now, everyone ate and celebrated the reunion of Rick and his family.

Tomorrow would be a new challenge.

END CHAPTER 5

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	6. Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glenn leads the way through Atlanta as you, Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl go back to rescue Merle from the rooftop and retrieve the fabled bag of guns. 
> 
> But nothing can ever go according to plan, can it?

Everyone that volunteered for the rescue mission awoke at dawn the next day, silently passing some pan-fried spam around the fire as everyone ate and hydrated for the day. Daryl was visibly irritated from the moment you set eyes on him, and it would only get worse as the day wore on. Rick took the drivers seat, and Glenn called shotgun before anyone else thought to. T-Dog exchanged a weary look with you and climbed into the back with Daryl, opting for the back corner. You climbed in after him.

There was about 10 minutes of blessed silence before Daryl started rambling. Quietly, under his breath at first, but it grew louder as he got more heated. He was spewing some bullshit about about prejudice and favoritism, and people thinking they're superior to him and his brother. "Y'all out here thinking your lives're worth more'n ours just cause we ain't perfect like you!" Rick's eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing, instead reaching forward to press a button on the dash.

A CD clicked on, and the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival drowned out the redneck's rant. After a moment of fighting to speak over the the music, Daryl took the hint and fell silent, sulking quietly as he chewed his lower lip.

"Don't go 'round tonight  
It's bound to take your life  
There's a bad moon on the rise."

You hummed along, occasionally casting a side glance toward Daryl, brooding gaze directed out the window. You were grateful when the van eventually rolled to a stop along a fenced in railroad line. As always, the peace was short lived, and you swore loudly as Daryl scrambled over you to climb out of the van, catching an elbow to the tit as he practically rolled over you.

He was out in a flash, throwing some punches at the air, psyching himself up for the rescue. "Settle down Daryl, we aren't out of the woods yet." T-Dog warned. "Don't you fuckin' tell me to settle down. You best pray my brother is up there in one piece or I'm gonna kill you." T-Dog puts his hands up passively. "Look man, I wrapped a heavy chain around the door and locked it. It was an accident, I wasn't leaving him for dead. There's no way the geeks could get at Merle if that door stayed closed."

Everyone kept a tight rank as they traveled quietly on foot below a desolate highway overpass. You stepped over the rubble carefully. Though no one was particularly eager to get him, Glenn makes the call that Merle should be retrieved first, because going for the guns first would mean doubling back, and the goal was to get out of the walker infested city as soon as possible.

"This way guys." Glenn motioned, leading you single file through a ransacked department store. "Through the back and up the stairwell, he'll be there." T-Dog insisted. Grasping the bolt cutters they'd bargained from Dale, the lock was cut and the door pushed open. Daryl shoved past everyone to sprint onto the roof and screamed. One by one you all filed through the door to examine the scene. Your stomach lurched when you saw it.

Merle was gone, freshly amputated hand giving everyone the finger as it lay abandoned on the concrete roof, weeping blood. No one was entirely sure what had happened, but it was clear he'd used the discarded hacksaw to take his entire hand off to free himself of the metal handcuff. Daryl's face crumpled for a moment, then turned to a scowl.

"What the hell have you done?!" Daryl snarled, angrily pointing his crossbow at T-Dog. "Daryl easy!" You shout, taking a step forward, only to freeze as 'Officer Friendly' pulled out his revolver. He aimed it at Daryl's head, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, heart pounding in your ears. "Daryl you stand down now. T-Dog did more for your brother than he deserved, I'm sorry but he did not play well with others and this is where it got him." Daryl tensed, but didn't lower his weapon immediately. "I swear to God, I don't care if every walker in the city hears." Rick threatened, cocking the gun. Your blood felt like ice as time stood still.

Glowering, Daryl lowered his bow and everyone took a ragged breath. "Everyone just ease up." Rick instructed. "Daryl do you really think Merle would die that easily?" You asked, following after the hunter as he moved to trace the pattern of blood. "Nah." He grunted, jaw tight.

Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn scrambled to gather Dale's tools that were scattered over the rooftop, jogging after you as Daryl began to track his brother's movement, taking out a lone walker as he advanced downstairs off the roof. You retrieve the arrow as you run past, keeping close behind him as you barrel into the department store office. Another lone walker met a similar fate as the last, joining two more that had been put down recently. "Tough motherfucker took them down one handed." Daryl cheered, spattering you with blood as he yanked the arrow out.

You glared, then glanced around the room, looking for signs of Merle, or of anything valuable. You wrinkled your nose in disgust, eyes following a trail of blood leading into the employee kitchen. Moving cautiously, you kick open the door, gripping your axe tightly in your right hand. The sickening smell of burnt flesh hung in the air, sullying your nostrils. That was all the evidence you needed to assume Merle had actually managed to keep from bleeding out. "Crazy son of a bitch." You murmured in disbelief.

"Nobody can kill Merle but Merle," Daryl declared, spitting on the carpeted floor. He sounded almost proud of his crazy, drug addict older brother. The broken window leading to the fire escape must have been his exit, there was no sign of Merle left in the building. "We gotta catch up to him!" Daryl shouted, looking frantically out the window, pacing back and forth. "Daryl, we cant just run out there, we need a plan." You attempted to calm him down, looking to Rick for help. "Merle has taken care of himself so far, we just have to hope he'll keep doing that." The officer said firmly.

 "No way I'm risking my ass even more than I already have looking for that racist bastard, unless we get those guns first." T-Dog insisted, looking a bit fed up with the entire situation. "Alright everyone calm down. Just chill for a few minutes while I figure out the best plan. We can get the guns, then split in to teams to sweep the roads on the way back to the van. If he's gotten this far he isn't sticking around to hole up." Daryl seemed satisfied with that course of action, and reluctantly sat down on a desk.

Glenn was quickly outlining the city blocks on an empty whiteboard, marking the group's current location and the location of the tank where presumably, the bag of guns still lay fallen.  "So here's what we'll do. I'm the fastest so I'm going to be the one to get the bag. I'm going to head up the alley directly behind this store. Daryl, I want you and [Name] to keep the walkers off me while I make a break for the bag. Rick, T-Dog- cover this second alley two blocks away, that way I'll have a backup route if shit goes south."  He pointed to the corresponding areas on the whiteboard as he talked everyone through their roles.

Had there been no interruptions, the plan would have been executed perfectly. But some snot-nosed, piece-of-shit, wanna-be-gangster teenager and his gang of hardasses threw a wrench in it. Apparantly you weren't the only group with your eyes on that big bag of guns.

You had been warned about kidnapping so many times in your life you always thought you'd be ready for it. Funny how you can prepare for something and still fail miserably. "Glenn?" You whispered, stomach knotted with fear. "[Name]?" He whispered back. You'd been forced into the back of a car and blindfolded, hands bound in front of you with an extension cord. Your beloved axe was laying cold on the streets of Atlanta as you and Glenn were taken to the men's evil lair, awaiting your fate. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to run, but you didn't feel like getting shot just yet.

Or so you thought. The blindfolds were removed, and the both of you took in your surroundings. Most of the people around you were elderly, and those that weren't appeared to be caretakers. "What the hell is going on?" You whispered fiercely, demanding an explaination. It didn't feel right to threaten them with all these grandparents around, but you weren't about to be a bargaining chip.

As luck would have it, you got your wish. You supposed you had the look of someone who wouldn't cooperate, because instead of parading you around outside like Glenn, you were bound to a chair. "Oh you motherfuckers better pray I don't get lose." You hissed, struggling against the scratchy rope that was currently cutting off the circulation to your hands and ankles.

"Watch your language, puta."

You spat at him, and he dropped the heavy black hood back over your head, plunging your world into darkness. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears and the faint sounds of the elderly shuffling along and playing cards, occasionally punctuated by the yipping of tiny dogs. Eventually you stopped struggling and sat still, waiting to be rescued.

You didn't have to wait long before a commotion broke out. "[Name]!" A voice you couldn't place called out to you. You could hear several sets of feet moving through the room. "Someone please cut me loose." You groaned, butt numb from sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair for so long. The blinding hood was pulled off your head at last, and you blinked a few times at the light. It was Daryl.

"That's a good look for you." He snorted softly, using his pocket knife to free your wrists in a swift sawing motion. "This is just what happens when you don't work well with others, I guess." You joked, rubbing the sore skin on your arm where the rope had dug in. He knelt down to do the same with your ankles.

At the end of it, Rick shared the bag of guns with the other group, and everyone parted ways. From what you could gather, the building you were held hostage in had been a nursing home. The staff abandoned the patients, save for the janitor and one of the nurses, and they'd been struggling to feed and protect everyone. You had been hesitant to trust him, but Rick was beginning to grow on you. He was a natural born leader with a good heart.

"Hat really ties the outfit together." You teased lightly. Rick tipped it at you with a smile. He seemed glad to have it back. "Admit it. You only came back to Atlanta for the hat." Glenn added. Rick's smile grew. "Don't tell anybody."  The group shared a laugh, but it was short lived.

The van was gone.

"Oh shit." You cursed. "Merle..." Rick said what everyone else was thinking. "We gotta hurry back on foot, if I know him he's going to be taking some unholy vengeance back to the camp." Daryl said uneasily. With no other choice, the five of you broke into a run, heading back in the direction of the survivor's camp as fast as you could cover ground.

END CHAPTER 6

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	7. Holes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You run for what feels like hours to find an unholy vengeance is being unleashed on the survivor's camp, but it isn't Merle's doing. There are multiple casualties, and the group desperately looks for guidance as the grim reality sets in.

The heavy bag pounded into your back brutally as you ran, muscles burning in protest. Your lungs screamed for respite. The stitch in your side bore through you so hard you thought you might be sick. The sun was setting quickly, the group was feeling more and more desperate as the light slowly faded. Nobody was taking down walkers anymore, just shoving past them as your feet thundered heavily through the woods. Just as night fell, several gunshots cracked in the distance, cutting through the silence of the dark like a siren. "C'mon!" Rick shouted. Though you'd already been running as fast as you could, somehow you urged your body faster, scarcely keeping up with the rest of the group as they barrelled towards camp. You could hear people screaming, and the sound chilled you to the bone.

The threat was not Merle. It was much, much worse: the camp was being overrun with the undead, and the five of you hadn't been there to protect anyone. People were scattering for cover left and right, screaming for each other, screaming at the dead, screaming as they were torn apart. The chaos was so visceral it seemed almost unreal, and you froze in terror as a putrid corpse turned its milky gaze toward you. Miraculously, Rick threw you a gun. "It's loaded! Shoot!" With a cry, you jumped into the fray. You weren't trained with a gun, but you couldn't miss if you got close enough to press the barrel to their decaying heads, putting them down execution style. Soon all you could hear was the ringing of your ears, eyes darting back and forth to survey the damage. Amy was down on the ground by the RV, Andrea shrieked her name over and over as Dale attempted to comfort her. Rick clung to his wife and child, sobbing. Shane stood back quietly in disbelief, rubbing the back of his head. Another cry rung out through the night as Carol found her husband dead in their tent, pushing Sophia away from the carnage. Daryl stood back away from the crowd, looking for signs of his brother.

Stumbling to the center of the camp, Jim speaks for the first time that you can recall since you were introduced. There was a haunted look in his eye that you would carry with you for days afterward. "I remember my dream now. I remember why I dug the holes." 'Holes? What holes?' What the hell had happened at this camp while you were out corralling rednecks and being held hostage? There were dozens of dead bodies all over the campsite in various states of destruction— both humans and walkers — and as the sun began to rise on that night of hell, the carnage was set in sharp relief. Silently, you stood on shaky legs, moving to help move the unfamiliar corpses into a pile to be burned. It seemed like the only thing you could do to help at this point, families both new and old mourned together. The smell of burning flesh was a revolting reminder of the loss that occurred; Burn the dead, bury the others. You were helping Daryl lug someone towards the fire when Glenn moved into your path. "Wait, stop. That isn't a walker." He insisted, voice close to breaking. You and Daryl shared a glance, and you looked down at the body, unsure. "I'm sorry Glenn, I didn't recognize them." Sweat dripped down your back, and you shifted your grip on the heavy body. "I don't think we have any holes left anyway?"

"We don't burn them!" Glenn insists again, tears streaming down his face. "We bury them! We'll dig more holes if we have to!" That emotional outburst was apparently Daryl's limit; he dropped his end of the body, wiping his soiled hands on the fabric of his jeans. "Bury the ones you love? You left my brother cuffed to a roof to die! This is what all y'all get! Y'all're reaping what you've damn sown for leaving my brother for fucking dead!" He angrily wiped the sweat from his eyes and turned to leave. "Daryl, calm down, nobody deserved this." You moved to follow him, but a piercing shout pulled you back.

"A walker bit Jim!" Jaqui was eying the gaunt man apprehensively. He looked absolutely terrified, trying desperately to convince the growing crowd that he was okay. T-Dog ran up behind Jim, hold his arms back as Daryl ran in to lift his shirt, revealing a nasty, weeping bite wound on his stomach. You brought a hand to your mouth.

Everyone started arguing over each other, while Jim shrunk back, looking less and less confident in himself with every shaking, whisper of "I'm okay." Daryl had the pickaxe back in his hands again, shouting that Jim was a ticking time bomb, and had to be put down. "We don't kill the living!" Rick insisted, putting himself bodily between the unruly crowd and Jim. The poor man looked like a trapped animal. "The CDC is less than 25 miles from here. Maybe they can help Jim... Maybe they can help all of us." Shane wanted to try for a more secure military base that was further away, but Rick insisted the CDC was their best shot. Your eyes were torn from the argument as you caught Daryl heading towards Jim with the pick axe. "For fuck's sake Daryl!" You made a feeble grab for the weapon as he ran by, but Rick pointed his gun at Daryl's head for the second day in a row, and you finally lost your patience. With a running start, you tackled the belligerent redneck to the ground, pickaxe bouncing out of his hands with a clatter. He growled and took a swing at you, connecting with your jaw. "Bastard!" Your teeth clattered together painfully, head snapping back with the force of the blow. You kneed him in the balls without remorse, and he doubled over with a groan. "Bitch!" Rick took advantage of the chaos and whisked Jim away to the RV while Shane broke up the fight. He pulled you off Daryl with a low growl. "I don't want to hear another word from either of you. Break it up right now, or you're both going in cuffs until we leave in the morning." He warned. Wordlessly, you rubbed your jaw, feeling dazed. Daryl snatched up the pickaxe and stormed off.

You nursed your wounds by the fire with a bottle of whiskey, humming a forgotten tune as you watched the logs burn and break apart, barely lifting your head when you heard footsteps. "Hey." It was Daryl, sans the pickaxe. You were grateful for that detail. "Back for round two Dixon?" You mumbled, jaw still quite sore from the earlier scuffle. He leaned against a tree and scoffed, fishing out a pack of cigarettes. "My balls are still recovering from the last round, thanks." He murmured. Groaning, you pushed yourself up into a seated position, studying his face. The dark circles beneath his eyes matched yours. Last night's horror was still sinking in, and you'd been fighting hard to keep it out of your mind. People had been lost. Some that you didn't really know, but the effect it had on the camp was heavy and evident nonetheless. Everyone was hurting, everyone was haunted.

"Trade you for a smoke?" You proposed suddenly, raising the bottle in invitation. "How's that work?" Daryl asked, moving to sit adjacent from you. "You give me a cigarette and I share my booze with you until I finish it. Wash, rinse, and repeat." Intrigued, he pulled out a single cig and stuck it between your lips, holding a light to the end. "Pleasure doin' business." You murmured, breathing out a shallow mouthful of smoke as you passed him the bottle. He promptly raised it to his lips, tossing his head back to chug the dark liquid with reckless abandon. "Bastard!" You exclaimed. "I can't just hit up the liquor store, you gotta ration that shit!" He smirked, and relented after a moment. You snatched the booze out of his hands, nearly toppling out of your seat as you did. "Easy girl, how much have you already had?" Daryl snorted, pulling you back forward. "Let's just say the bottle was full when I started." You replied. It was a fourth empty now. Your head grew ever foggier as you smoked in silence with the hunter, passing the bottle back and forth. His eyes met yours for a moment, and a delightful idea blossomed within your mind. You were tired of thinking about flesh being torn from bone, tired of seeing blood every time you closed your eyes. You wanted to think of something else, anything else, and Daryl was going to help you whether he liked it or not.

"This next sip is gonna cost you a li'l something extra." You decided suddenly, scooting closer to Daryl with a mischievous grin. "Oh yeah? What do you want?" He scoffed, meeting your unwavering gaze. "Kiss me." You insisted bluntly, relishing the look of surprise that spread across his face. "You're fucking drunk." He said after a pause, flicking his spent cigarette into the dirt. "Yup. I'm fucking drunk, it's the end of the world, and I would like a kiss." You reiterated, waving the bottle at him for emphasis. Daryl was quiet, and when he stood up suddenly you thought it was to leave, but then he bent down, moving his face level with yours. His breath was sour with whiskey and smoke, blue eyes dark with intent. "C'mon, you know you want to." You murmured, grasping the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. "You don't get to tell me what I want." He replied lowly, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. "I think you owe me a kiss after that sucker punch you gave me earlier." There were scarcely inches between you now, and you could feel the pull growing. "Do you want more of this booze or not?" Another terse moment passed, like a rubber band stretching. Both of you knew it was only a matter of time before it snapped.

Without much warning, his face collided with yours suddenly in a clumsy clattering of teeth and lips. Your hands were wound tight in his shirt, and Daryl's hands pressed heavy on your thighs as he leaned in closer. The extra weight against you finally tipped the rickety lawn chair backward into the dirt, and the pair of you crashed to the ground, uninhibited as you moaned into each others mouths. He was quick to press his tongue against yours, much to your delight. Your dirty fingernails scraped down the sides of his exposed arms eagerly as his teeth pulled on your lower lip. Apocalypse be damned, all you cared about was the heady rush of arousal and the thrill of wrestling for dominance.

Unfortunately, the less-than-subtle commotion attracted the attention of Shane. He was sitting on guard duty not too far away and in the darkness it was easy to mistake your frenzied embrace for another fight. "Daryl and [Name]!" He was quick to jog over and rip the two of you apart by the backs of your shirts. "I'm starting to think you two thought I was kidding earlier." He pushed you both down roughly, whipping out a pair of cuffs. "Drunk and Disorderly. You know that's a class B misdemeanor in the state of Georgia. I'd love to throw you in the drunk tank right about now, I really would." Shane had seemed a lot nicer when you were first introduced, but you had a sneaking suspicion his current aggression stemmed from losing the argument with Rick earlier that day. Intoxicated as you were, reaction times weren't exactly at 100%, and before either of you could react, your left hand was cuffed to Daryl's right. "Shane, look-" "Hey man we-" You both tried to explain, but he put his hand up. "I don't wanna hear it from either of you two troublemakers. You're gonna sit there, and you're gonna sit still and keep quiet, or so help me god I'll beat both your asses." Words failed, you were too drunk to protest. The two of you exchanged a heated look as you struggled against the cold metal. "I mean it now. Not a peep." Shane repeated firmly, flashing his pistol with a stony expression. When Shane turned his back, Daryl yanked on the cuffs roughly, earning him a kick to the shin.

The bottle of whiskey lay forgotten on its side by the fire pit, scarcely a shot's worth of liquor left clinging to the inside. You stared at it longingly, sighing as you fought to keep your eyes open. You stole the occasional glance at the man you were cuffed to, mind flirting with the heated memories of his lips and tongue. Though you tried to stay awake, it was a battle you eventually lost, sagging against Daryl's side as you fell unconscious.

END CHAPTER 7

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	8. Refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So begins the journey to the CDC, and hopefully to safety- before the group loses any more members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Smut will be released seperately in a subchapter, and can be skipped if desired :)

Shane shook you awake early the next morning, much to the dismay of your throbbing head. A damp patch of drool clung to your shoulder, and you nudged Daryl off with a soft groan of disgust. Shane removed the cuffs and shooed the pair of you off to help break down and pack up what was left of the camp. Moving was torture, your entire body was stiff and sore from yesterday's events, joints aching in protest as you moved to pack up what few possessions you had left.

Everyone was quiet, sullen, hurting. You were helping Daryl load Merle's motorcycle into the back of a truck bed when you saw Morales and his family exchanging tearful goodbyes with the other survivors. They loaded up into a car, and drove off in opposite direction of the CDC. "Guess they decided they can make it on their own." Daryl mumbled, securing the bike with some cord. He slammed the back hatch shut. "Doesn't seem smart to me." You replied quietly. "There's safety in numbers. Morales must be pretty confident in himself to risk his family going off on their own."

Everyone finished loading up, and pulled their cars in line to depart. "Mind if I call shotgun?" You asked, tossing your bag into the front seat without waiting for an answer. "Ain't you tired of me yet girl?" He snorted softly. "Yeah, a bit,  but I'd rather sit in the front seat with you than endure the horrible silence in the van or RV....Plus you stink and nobody else wants to ride with you." You shrugged, winking at him. There was a palpable tension between the two of you. It was as though a bookmark had been placed in the previous night's activities, but neither of you cared to speak of it.

Yet.

"You don't exactly smell like daisies yourself." He replied with a huff, rolling his eyes and climbing into the driver's seat. You followed suit on the passenger side, putting your feet up on the dash as he started the truck. The caravan pulled away slowly, leaving the campsite behind for good. This was life now, moving from place to place, running when it inevitably became unsafe. Would you ever be able to rest properly again?

Daryl rolled down the window to smoke as he drove, and you dug around in your bag for something to fill your grumbling stomach. "Want some pears?" You asked, holding up a dented can. "Sure." He replied, wrinkling his nose. "I've got peaches, tomatoes, green beans, and corn if you don't like pears." He waved his hand at you dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Ain't like we can go shopping for my favorite brand of chips."  Unzipping the outside pocket of your bag, you smirked. "Well, I can't promise they're *your* favourite but I'll share." You tossed a bag of Salt and Vinegar chips in his lap.  While you had shared most of what you scavenged with the others, you'd saved a few guilty pleasures for yourself; reese's cups, potato chips, and a few cans of Dr. Pepper.

A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Daryl's lip. "Careful. If anyone catches you smiling at me they might start thinking we're friends." You  joked. He snorted "Fat chance, I'm surprised Shane let you get in the car with me." The abrupt ending to last night's encounter had been quite amusing. "To be honest I don't think he saw me." You replied with a smirk. "Naughty." He tsked, sending a chill down your spine.

The two of you carried on in a comfortable silence for awhile,  passing the bag of chips back and forth while you dug through the glove box for a CD that "didn't suck." Suddenly, the caravan came to a stop, and people trickled out of their vehicles to see what the problem was. The RV was stalling, it had blown something, and from what you could hear Dale explaining, it wasn't something he could keep fixing with duck tape.       

Shane and T-Dog volunteered to scout ahead for a replacement hose while the rest of the caravan took time to stretch their legs. Daryl climbed out of the truck and promptly dropped the fly on his jeans. "Eugh, classy," you said as he pissed loudly in the dirt. "Classy's my middle name!" He quipped back. You decided it was a good time to walk away, and moved towards the rest of the group. From what you could gather, Jim wasn't doing well at all.

When Rick emerged from the RV with Jim you had to suppress a gasp. He looked as though he'd already died, hollow eyes framed by ashy grey skin damp with sweat. "He wants to stay here." Rick explained gently. It made sense why he would want to be left behind; Jim looked utterly miserable. It was almost worse than dying, burning from the inside out, just waiting to turn into one of the walking dead.

Each of you supported his frame, carrying him to a tall shady tree beside the road. Every step was agony for him, and you couldn't help but admire his inner strength. If you were honest with yourself, you'd have probably offed yourself long before you got to this point. Jim was brave to suffer as long as he had already. Time was costly, and the group couldn't afford to draw out their farewell. It seemed wrong to leave him, but he had made his choice and no one could convince him to carry on any longer. Jim slowly disappeared in the side mirror as the caravan pulled away.

The sun was beginning to set as the caravan slowly approached the CDC. Though you couldn't see any yet, the smell of rotting bodies wafted through the windows. You stuck your head out the window to get a better look, and spotted what looked like hundreds of corpses- both military and civilian, strewn about the street and surrounding area. "Holy shit." You murmured, feeling nauseous.  Daryl rolled up the windows quickly to avoid the worsening smell. "Looks like we're late to the party." He grunted, looking disappointed. Rick had been right about one thing; the military had tried to defend the CDC. Whether or not there was anyone left on the inside remained to be seen, but you couldn't help but feel this had been a waste of time- Nothing you could see was left alive.

Clusters of flies buzzed sickly in the air as everyone exit their vehicles, covering their noses as they hurried towards the looming building in a tight formation. You yanked a grease-stained bandana out of Daryl's back pocket and tied it loosely over the lower half of your face in an attempt to avoid breathing anything in. There was a growing amount of the living dead moving nearby, and it was clear it wouldn't be safe to stay long out in the open. The light was fading from the sky at an alarming rate, and to make matters worse, the doors and windows of the building were tightly locked and shuttered. "Rick?" You called nervously as the walkers started to take interest.

"We can still head for Fort Benning," Shane suggested, looking equally nervous as Rick began knocking on the metal shutters, desperate for entry. Daryl took down a corpse that wandered too closely with a well-placed arrow. "We need a plan now." Lori insisted urgently, looking to her husband for guidance as she held their son protectively "We'll never make it that far." Andrea interjects. "We have no gas left, and the canned food [Name] got for us won't last forever between all of us." It was almost dark, and if the group didn't move soon they'd be easy pickings for the oncoming hoard of walkers.

"The camera moved!" Rick exclaimed suddenly, desperately looking above the door with wide eyes. "It's gotta be automatic, there's no one left here man." Shane insisted, trying to pull his partner away. Panic was beginning to spread, and a cold feeling of dread washed over you as you watched Rick scream and pound both fists on the door. "You're killing us! If you don't let us in, you're killing us!" Carol and Sophia were crying in fear, huddled in a tight group with Lori and Carl. You swallowed a lump in your throat and pulled out the gun Rick had given you the night before. Daryl fired another bolt, and Shane readied his gun. "Rick! There's no one there!" Glenn shouted, firing his weapon at the nearest animated corpse. You followed suit, putting yourself between the group and a gnashing walker to put it down. The window of time left to make an escape was closing rapidly. "Rick!" Lori cried out.

Acting quickly, Shane put his arms around Rick tightly, pulling him backwards away from the door. He continued to plead for the lives of the group as you, Daryl, Andrea, and T-Dog tried to clear a path to the vehicles. The sound of the gunfire was only attracting more of the dead- it wasn't looking good for any of you. Heart thudding in your chest, your mind was stuck in a frantic loop as you tried desperately to accept the fact that you might die there on the street, just like the others before you.

Dirt to Dirt. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. You couldn't even think of any final words, knees nearly giving out as your gun clicked without firing.

A grinding metallic sound rang out over the groans of the undead, catching everyone's attention. You whirled around in time to see the shutter door sliding open, bathing the group in a blinding white light: It was like the gates of Heaven opening up before you. "Get inside!" There wasn't any time time to hesitate. "Everyone hurry!" Rick yelled, pushing his family through the entrance into the building's lobby. A man in a long white lab coat stood just inside, firing a barrage of cover from a heavy black machine gun. The heavy metal door slammed shut just as the last of the group hurried inside. Everyone struggled to catch their breath, wiping away tears and blood spatter alike. You leaned heavily against the door and pulled the bandana off your face, blinking up at the overhead lights. It was a miracle you'd all survived. "What do you want from me?" The doctor asked finally, scanning each of you. "A chance." Rick replied, hands trembling. There was a terse moment of silence before he instructed everyone to retrieve their things; the doors would not be opening again. It didn't take much debate, everyone seemed to agree that staying was the only option, though a few of you weren't sure you liked the idea of never leaving. You, Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn hurried to grab all the essentials that were left in the vehicles while Rick, Shane, and the doctor covered you from the entrance.

Shouldering a couple of heavy bags, you hung back a bit to wait for Daryl as you followed the group down a long, white hallway that opened up into what looked like a control room of sorts. A robotic voice greeted you from above. There were several workstations equipped with expensive-looking computers, but the building seemed suspiciously empty. A quick glance shared with Daryl confirmed he was likely thinking the same thing. "Vi, please bring up the lights." Several large lights clicked on overhead, one at a time, further illuminating the large room. "Welcome to Zone 5." The doctor says, holding his hands out as if to say 'this is it'.

Dr. Jenner, as he was finally introduced, reluctantly allowed the group sanctuary, providing everyone allowed him to collect and test a blood sample. You weren't sure what he was looking for; Andrea pointed out that anyone infected would have a fever. A few people objected, but losing a bit of blood was a small price to pay for safety. No one was sure what he was looking for, if anything, but he seemed satisfied with your compliance. Soon, the group was seated around a table, sharing the food and drink Jenner had provided. Everyone was grateful to be alive, laughing and carrying on like old friends and family. It felt so normal that it made you uneasy, but the liquor helped with that. Daryl challenged you to an arm wrestle for a bottle of Jack- he won, but you still got a fair share. Soon any lingering worries faded away, it felt good to laugh.

END CHAPTER 8

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	9. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You lure Daryl into the shower with a bottle of Jack and unleash human nature at its most basic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just explicit sexual content. If you are under the age of 18, or uncomfortable with graphic descriptions of sexual acts, then please feel free to skip this chapter, it will not detract from the overall story.

The good things just kept coming- Because the CDC was still running on the backup generator, there was electricity, air conditioning, and most exciting: hot water. Nobody could wait to feel clean again, and practically ran to the showers, shedding their soiled clothing to gleefully jump under their own personal spray. Taking advantage of the confusion, you snuck away with the whiskey and hid in one of the stalls. The nightmares of the previous night had been forgotten by most, and sounds of joy and contentment echoed throughout the bathroom. You set the bottle down and shed your clothes, tucking everything into your bag and tossing it out in the hall. Eagerly, you snatched the bottle up and twisted the spigot. Water poured forth like rain from heaven, washing away the filth of the outside world. Steam danced off your skin, and you couldn't help but sing as you swayed back and forth below the hot spray.

 _"Almost heaven, West Virginia._  
_Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River._  
_Life is old there, older than the trees,_  
_Younger than the mountains,_  
_Blowing like a breeze._  
_Country roads, take me home_  
_To the place I belong.  
_ _West Virginia, mountain mama..."_

Your serenade was interrupted by the sharp sound of someone clapping, and you had a pretty good idea who it was. You whipped around to see Daryl's boots, visible beneath the gap in the shower curtain. " Trying to sneak a peak Dixon, you pervert?" He chuckled softly. " I know you took the Jack in there, pass it over an' nobody gets hurt." A smirk bloomed on your face. "Come in here and get it, I dare you." You challenged, heart thudding in your ears.

If there was a perfect opportunity to let go, this was it. His shoes disappeared, and for a moment you thought he'd gone, but the soft rustling of clothes piqued your interest. "Are you actually gonna come in here?" You laughed, amused. "Turn around." He replied gruffly, pulling back the curtain. "Feeling shy Dixon~?" You teased, slowly turning to face the water. It gave him a generous view of your ass as he slipped into the stall. "Damn girl." He rumbled softly, reaching over your shoulder to steal the bottle from your hands. His bare chest ghosted against your back for just a moment, and the contact sent a rush of electricity to your core.   
  
"Are you naked?" You asked childishly, taking the opportunity to squirt a generous amount of shampoo into your hand. "None of your business." He replied between gulps of liquid initiative. "Wouldn't be very fair if you aren't." The suds felt delightful on your scalp, the smell of fresh mint replacing the scent of sweat and death.   
  
"I am, what's it matter?" he said, after a short pause. "Mmm." You hummed in acknowledgement, turning your head slightly. "Do I get to take a peek?" Daryl reached up and held his hands on either side of your face. "Nah." He insisted, fingers slowly sliding down your neck to tangle in your [color]  hair. It was as though he wasn't sure you were tangible. Goosebumps prickled over your arms at the close proximity.  "Then gimme the whiskey back, and make yourself useful." You insisted, tossing a bar of soap over your shoulder. Surprisingly, he passed it over without protest, kneeling to retrieve the soap off the shower floor.  
  
Bracing one hand against the cool tile, you tilted your head back to take a burning gulp. This was your chance to live a little. Daryl hesitantly began to wash your back, one hand resting gently against your waist. "That feels nice." You encouraged, inching back slightly. He rubbed slow, even circles down the length of your spine, sliding tentatively across your hip. A soft gasp escaped from your lips as Daryl suddenly closed the distance between you, body hot against your own. His cock was fully hard, nestling firmly against the cleft of your ass as he wrapped a muscled arm around your waist.  
  
"How's that?" He grunted softly, circling your left breast with the soap, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he groped you. "Good. Don't stop." You replied, arching your back into the touch eagerly. The bar of soap fell to the ground as he nudged you closer to the wall, grinding against your ass lightly. "You had one job Dixon." You chastised, biting your lower lip harshly to keep from moaning as he kissed the side of your neck.   
  
He grabbed you by the shoulders roughly, turning you around to face him. The near-empty liquor bottle clattered to the floor noisily as his mouth crashed into yours, pinning you against the shower wall. "Careful Dixon..." you gasped softly between heated kisses. Somewhere amidst the buzz of the alcohol and the thrill of a sexual high, you managed to put together enough thoughts to worry that someone might investigate the sounds the two of you were making.   
  
However, your brain went fuzzy as you felt his mouth on your neck again, sucking gently as his rough hands roamed your back to settle on your ass. You could feel his teeth against your skin now, a powerfully erotic antithesis to the bite everyone feared the most in this new world. It was impossible to conceal your arousal, his hands were on your breasts fully now, fingers sliding roughly over your hardened nipples. The hot water seemed to have run out, but the tepid water felt like heaven as it continued to pour over your naked bodies.   
  
Your fingers moved languidly over the expanse of Daryl's back, and he stiffened slightly as you traced over the unmistakable texture of faded scars. His grip wavered, and you pulled back to look up into his eyes for the first time since he'd entered the shower. A hesitant expression had settled into his features. "Are you okay?" you asked quietly, moving your hands away to rest on his hips. He nodded, and you leaned in to kiss him again, nibbling his lower lip gently as you slid a hand between the two of you.

It was Daryl's turn to hold back a moan as you grasped him firmly, fingers encircling the girth of his shaft. His left hand shot out to grasp your shoulder, as though he might fall down if he let go. Delighted, you offered him a cheeky smile and stroked him slowly. "Fuck." He grit out, giving you the opportunity to press your tongue between his lips. The scrape of stubble with the taste of cheap booze and cigarettes only served to fuel your arousal. Curling your wrist expertly, you continued to tease him.   
  
"Suck my dick?" He sort-of-asked in a low, hedonistic whine. Coming from him, it almost sounded polite. "One good thing deserves another~" was your playful reply. "Oh hell yeah, I'll eat that pussy any day of the week." he growled, eagerly pushing you to your knees. "I'll hold you to that, Daryl Dixon." You looked up at him, eyes dark with lust as you pressed a kiss against the soft, slick head of his cock.   
  
You weren't sure where this sudden surge of confidence had come from, but you imagined it had something to do with all the near-death experiences you'd been having lately... that and all the liquor.   
  
Daryl groaned softly, and you opened your mouth to tease your tongue against a thick vein on the underside. He grasped the hair on the back of your head roughly, tilting his hips forward to penetrate your mouth impatiently.  "Fuck, that feels so fuckin' good." He grunted as you grasped his thighs, bobbing your head. Every sound he made seemed to heighten your arousal, and before long Daryl was practically fucking your mouth, hips rolling forward of their own desire as he sprinted towards his release, and came with a deep groan. Your mouth was filled with the bitter taste of of his cum, and you spit it down the drain, reaching for the abandoned bottle of whiskey to wash the taste out with the last few drops.  
  
Before either of you could make another move, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, moving outside the shower stall. You scrambled to your feet quickly. "Hey Daryl? Have you seen [Name?]"  It was Glen. Daryl met your eyes nervously, and was silent. His clothing was piled up directly outside the shower, but your backpack and clothing was tucked away in the far corner outside the shower- maybe Glen hadn't noticed? You shook your head vigorously, encouraging Daryl to get rid of him.  
  
"I ain't seen her." He said gruffly, hoping that answer would suffice. Glen laughed.  "I heard her singing John Denver in here earlier, wanted to invite her to play cards with a few of us. I'm sure she's around, thanks anyway." His footsteps trudged back down the hall. Daryl moved to shut the water off, but you slipped between him and the spigot. "Not so fast Casanova, you smell like wet dog. Let me wash your hair." Reluctantly, the man allowed you to give him a quick scrub- though he didn't make it easy, fondling your breasts and tracing your skin with his calloused hands to pass the time.  
  
Somehow, the two of you managed to get mostly dried off and put clothing on, stealthily making your way down the hall into one of the small facility bedrooms without being spotted. The door had scarcely clicked shut before his mouth was on yours again, pushing you towards the bed eagerly. Daryl pulled your shirt up roughly to expose your chest, leaning in to graze his teeth over an erect nipple. You gasped, prompting him to pinch the other firmly. "Fuck!" You pulled at the button on his jeans eagerly, but he moved back with a smirk. "Easy now bunny."    
  
The bed's metal frame squeaked in protest as Daryl pushed you down onto the mattress. He growled, taking your pants by the ankles and yanking them off. Effortlessly, he spread your legs, diving in to bury his face between them. You gasped, digging your fingers into the crisp cotton sheets as he nosed your clit, opening his mouth to lap at your slick folds.

If the man lacked any skill he certainly made up for it in enthusiasm, and you practically squealed as he pushed a couple fingers inside you roughly, attacking your clit with several well-placed passes of his tongue. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" There was a fire burning in your very core, one that had been stoked for far too long; It was ready to engulf your very soul.  Your mind and body thrummed with pleasure as your back arched off the bed, thighs squeezing the sides of his head tightly. Your vision went white, lungs sucking in air only to be released in the sound of a long, moan. He didn't relent, even after you came. You had to kick him away with a strangled gasp as he teased your overly sensitive clit. Daryl offered you no apology, giving you a smirk.

 

"You still got those condoms?" He asked, sucking his fingers clean in a way that sent an aftershock of pleasure straight to your groin. You forced him out of his jeans quickly, then wrestled the rest of the way out of your top. "In my bag, hurry up!"  It was now or never, an opportunity like this could never come again- and you definitely wanted to come again. "Hold your horses sweetheart." Daryl drawled, digging around for the box. 

He returned to the bed, violently ripping the cardboard open to spill 12 square foil packets onto the mattress. "Hell girl, we better get busy." He snatched one up, ripping it open with his teeth, and rolled it over his newly hardened erection. Daryl practically jumped on top of you, pushing your legs apart roughly. "You ready?" He asked, cock already poised firmly against your entrance. "I don't have all night!" You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist as he plunged inside without restraint. 

"Fuck!" The pair of you cried in union as he filled you completely. The sudden stretch burned, but you were hot and wet and ready for more, bucking your hips eagerly to meet his slow tentative test strokes. "I'm not gonna break Dixon, give it to me!" You gasped, blunt fingernails scraping down over his prominent collarbones. 

That was all the permission he needed, and the pair of you shed any remaining inhibition as you proceeded to fuck like wild animals amidst the bed's squeaking protest. His teeth were on your neck, your nails were in his back, and his cock- "Oh god!" His cock was hitting all the right spots. He sucked several dark marks down the side of your neck, and you were more than happy to return the favour.

Growling, he grasped you hard by the wrists, pulling you up to straddle him as he sat leaning against the headboard. He kept a bruising grip on your waist as he continued to mercilessly pound you, face crashing against yours for a sloppy kiss. You bit his tongue, earning yourself a firm slap on the ass. You moaned, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you rolled your hips down against him. "C'mon girl!" 

Daryl was getting frantic, lower lip tucked tight between his teeth as he let out a desperate moan. "You wanna cum?" You asked him, slowing your movements. His eyes snapped open. "I ain't gonna beg you." He hissed, rising up to flip and pin you to the bed. His cock was back inside you, a firm hand pressing against your throat. Your core burned white hot, eyes rolling back as the blood flow to your head slowed. "Fucking hell!" you gasped, fingers darting down to rub yourself in earnest.    

Your walls tightened around him as you came, sending him crashing after you with an animalistic howl. You tossed your head back in laughter and joined in with a coo of your own. In that moment, you were the last man and woman on earth. Daryl fell back on the mattress beside you with a wide grin. He was laughing too. 

You both fell asleep in a tangle of blankets and naked limbs, lulled to sleep by the whiskey's sweet lullaby.

END CHAPTER NINE

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	10. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like all good things, the CDC must come to an end. The survivors narrowly escape the clutches of death, but without anywhere to go how long will that last?

In the next room, Rick, Shane, T-Dog, Dale, and Glen sat crowded around a small card table, trying not to laugh as they tried to get through a game of poker. The walls weren't quite as thick as they looked, and nearly every sound came through loud and clear.  "I guess Daryl found [Name]." Glen snorted into his drink cheekily, sending Rick into a fit of giggles. "I'll be damned. I thought for sure they were gonna kill each other." Shane commented, pounding on the wall with his fist. A muffled chorus of "fuck you" echoed back in reply, followed by the steady squeak of the metal bedframe.

"From the sound of it, they still might." T-Dog joked, knocking back a shot of rum. "Make love than war." Rick laughed, raising his glass. Everyone was euphoric. The CDC was the promised land, everything the group needed to survive and more. After all the tragedy, it felt like paradise. "I'll drink to that." Dale cheered. The group drank with wild abandon late into the night, and quite a few people got up in the middle of the night to be sick. Daryl and yourself were not one of them, sleeping soundly through the night tangled in the bedding. It's likely both of you would have slept late into the afternoon, had you not been awoken by the sound of T-Dog marching down the hall, pounding on doors to announce "Breakfast!"

Daryl grumbled as he was roused from slumber, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you close, almost possesively. Disoriented and possibly still a bit intoxicated, you groaned and peeled away from his grip. The air conditioning had stopped sometime during the night, and sweat glazed your bare skin. "Fuck." You mumbled, rubbing your eyes blearily as you pieced together last night's events. The sheets were pulled off the mattress entirely, and the metal bed fame bowed inward, threatening to collapse entirely. "Christ." Daryl's hands were pressed firmly over his face as he mustered the energy to get up. Neither of you spoke a word to one another.

He faced the wall self-consciously as he pulled his rumpled clothing off the floor and got dressed. Body aching, you sat up and did the same, stealing small glances at the other man. You couldn't help a surge of pride at the sight of the deep scratches you'd left down his back. Not that you didn't have your own to match. The side of your neck ached with dark purple love bites, and you could see places where he'd held you so tightly his fingertips left bruises.

Neither of you really knew what to say to the other, minds quietly processing the array of new and confusing emotions you'd been gifted with. "Hey..." Mustering an awkward smile, you reached out to gently touch Daryl's back. He tensed, and moved away to pull on his shirt. "I should, uh, get goin'" he mumbled nervously, moving towards the door. "This doesn't mean I'm your girlfriend, Dixon." You called after him, almost wishing he'd stay. "I'm too old for you." He called back, giving you a tired wave as he wandered out down the hall. A one night stand then, it seemed. You sighed, pulling on your shoes and making your way to the kitchen.

T-dog, bless his big heart, had cooked scrambled eggs for the entire group using the powdered rations from the facility kitchen, and was humming a jolly tune as he dished out a serving for everyone. He was a stark contrast to the rest of the survivors; everyone else was quite visibly hung over. Glenn particularly, was groaning in agony with his head down on the table, a glass of water grasped losely in his hand. Lori rubbed her temples and passed Rick a bottle of medicine. "Take two and pass it down." she instructed. Several pairs of eyes were on you as you made your way towards the smell of coffee. "Mornin'" you greeted stiffly, pouring yourself a large mug and gulping down some asprin. Daryl was lurking in the corner, tiredly staring down into his own cup of coffee.

"Sleep well?" Rick asked you, pushing a plate of eggs your way with a playful glimmer in his eye. "Oh yeah, I was out like a light." You lied blatantly, eying the gelatenous food. "It tastes better than it looks." T-dog assured you with a brilliantly white smile, passing you a fork. "Thanks, you're an angel." Shane stumbled into the room a few minutes later, looking pissed off. He had scratches down the side of his neck, and you absentmindedly wondered who he'd hooked up with while you were busy with Daryl.

"You feel as bad as we do?" Rick asked with a tired smile, nursing his cup of coffee. "Worse, I think", Shane grunted in reply. "Hey man, what's up with your neck?" T-Dog asked, sounding concerned. Had they come from a walker? Shane shrugged the question off irritably, claiming he must have done it in his sleep during a nightmare. It was a reasonable explaination, but you refused to chime in, lest anyone take notice of the state your own neck was in. It looked damn near like you'd been chewed on by a walker, and you weren't about to pin it on Daryl after the way he'd ghosted you earlier.

Tilting your head back against the wall, you let your eyes settle shut, rubbing the corner of your eyelid with a yawn. Dr. Jenner finally re-emerged, and was promptly bombarded with questions from several members of the group. The scientist looked as exhausted as the lot of you, but invited everyone to join him in the main control room. Eventually everyone stood in the dimly lit room, digital clock on the wall casting an ominous red glow as Dr. Jenner ordered the computer to bring up some sort of brain scan display.

You sipped your coffee wordlessly, feeling coldly sober as the scientist explained the stages of the virus that was causing the dead to rise. The brain on the screen fell dark; the test subject had died. "Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia's timid voice whispered. Carol nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. You meet Andrea's eyes briefly, and she looks devestated, likely thinking about her sister.

The video skipped ahead. The brain was still dark, but a faint glimmer blossomed toward the base. "The virus restarts the brain?" Lori asked, sounding horrified. "Not exactly... It's just the brain-stem. The parts that make up a person are gone forever. That doesn't come back." Jenner explained. He went on to admit that despite his best efforts, he had no way to classify the disease, or how to treat it. All the other facilities had stopped replying to communications.

"There's really nothing left anywhere. That's what you're really saying, right?" Andrea blurts, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She wasn't the only one. Jaqui had a vacant look in her eyes, Carol was stroking Sophia's hair worriedly. Lori held Carl's hand tightly. You met Daryl's eyes and held his gaze a moment before looking down at the white floor.

Dale interrupted the heavy silence to point out to everyone that the clock on the wall was counting down, and appeared to have only an hour left. "What happens when the timer reaches zero?" Rick asks. "The basement generators run out of fuel." Jenner says flatly. The cold, robotic voice from above explained that a plant-wide decontamination would take place when the power finally ran out.

An unsettling feeling was growing in your stomach, fight or flight. Something inside you urged you to run. While Rick, T-Dog, and Shane were hurrying down into the basement to look for more fuel, you ran to pack up your bag, stealing a couple books from the library. As you struggled to zip the heavy canvas bag, it suddenly went dark. Your heart pounded in your ears. As the emergency lighting clicked on, you navigated through the underground labyrinth back up to the control room.

Everyone was beginning to show signs of hysteria, and Rick yelled for everyone to grab their things. But, before anyone could move, the blast doors slid shut with an ominous thud. Dr. Jenner had locked everyone inside the control room. "There's no point." He said sorrowfully. Even if you leave this room, everything upstairs is still locked up tight. I told you last night when those doors closed they wouldn't open again. Just stay here and let the time run out." 

"What happens when the time runs out!" Rick growls desperately. A repetitive metallic clang alerts you to Daryl swinging an axe at the sealed door, scarcely creating a dent as he did. Like a harbinger of doom, Jenner's robotic secretary finally revealed the fate the group faced. Site-wide decontamination meant that when that clock reached zero, the oxygen in the air would catch fire, destroying every living organism in the blink of an eye.

"It will be quick and painless." The scientist tried to comfort the terrified group, to no avail. Shane added to the chaos when he fired several rounds into the metal door, all of which left no impression. Snarling, Daryl charged at Dr. Jenner with the axe, only to be stopped short by the combined effort of Dale and T-Dog. "He doesn't get to decide when I die!" Daryl protested, struggling against their grip. "You can't do this to us, please!" Carol cried.

"If we kill him, we'll never get out of here," Rick shouts, intercepting Shane as he brandished a machine gun at the defeated scientist. You stood numbly in front of the door as they argued back and forth, ears buzzing as all the noise merged into one horrifying drone. After everything you'd managed to survive so far this was how you were going to go out? Trapped in some underground prison? You were startled from your moribund thoughts as the blast shield suddenly slid upward. Rick had somehow convinced Jenner to give them a chance to escape. Your knees nearly gave out.

"We've got four minutes, everyone hurry!" Glenn shouted, grabbing as many bags as he could before running up the stairs. You followed his lead, but not before looking back and faltering. Jaqui hadn't moved, neither had Andrea, though Dale was pleading with her. Jenner was seated at his desk, holding a photo of his wife. "C'mon!" You found yourself yanked backward by your collar as Daryl sprinted past. Rick was ushering Carol, Lori and the children up the hall as Shane and T-Dog hauled the rest of the bags. "Hurry!" Glen was pulling on the glass doors desperately when you made it upstairs, but Jenner was right, everything was still locked down tight.

"Everyone stand clear!" Shane barked, firing a rifle at the glass wall, trying to create an exit. It barely left a mark, all the glass was bulletproof. "God damnit we're so close!" You cursed. The caravan was visible outside, and for the time being the path was clear. It was as though the universe was taunting you with hope only to rip it away again at every turn. As you frantically looked around for a solution, Carol was beside you digging frantically throuh her bag. She gasped suddenly, and ran towards Rick clutching something tightly in her hands. It was a grenade.

Rick shouted for everyone to get down, and before you could react Daryl pushed his way in front of you, shielding you from the impending blast. There was little time to brace for the blinding flash and resounding explosion. You found yourself toppled to the ground with Daryl braced over you, ears ringing as glass showered down on the concrete. His blue eyes met yours fearfully for only a moment before he quickly pulled you to your feet and shoved you towards the newly created opening.

Everyone sprinted towards the vehicles and ducked inside, waiting with baited breath for the impending explosion. You dove into the cab of Daryl's truck and hunkered down in the floorboard with him. When the counter finally ticked to zero, the building blew up. The force of the explosion rocked the truck, and you were only vaguely aware of Daryl's hand on your lower back. As your ears began to ring again. You peered out the window cautiously to see an inferno where the CDC once stood. "Holy shit..." You breathed. "We were almost in there." Somehow, against the odds, you had escaped death yet again.

"We gotta get goin'." Daryl urged, pushing you into the front seat and climbing behind the wheel. "That mess is gonna attract every damn walker in the state." You spot Andrea and Dale stumbling shakily toward the RV. There was no sign of Dr. Jenner or Jacqui. Daryl started ths truck and pulled away after the RV and the van. Once again, the caravan was leaving, never to return.

END CHAPTER TEN

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	11. Cigarettes

 

As the caravan continued forward each of you quietly nursed a cigarette, trying to wrap your minds around the blur of recent events. It was a narrow escape, you'd been minutes away from instant incineration. Surviving was a heady victory, but when the adrenaline wore off you couldn't help but wonder if what Dr. Jenner said held any meaning. Would it have been better to die there on your own terms, or to keep fighting until death found you anyway? It seemed an unavoidable end at this point. What were you really fighting so hard to survive for anyway? You had no friends or family left alive- What could you possibly gain from this new reality? You glanced at Daryl, studying his face. "Where do you think we're headed?" you asked, breaking the silence. Daryl shrugged. "Fort Benning is my best guess, that's what Shane wanted before we tried the CDC." You groaned, grinding your cigarette butt into the growing collection in the cupholder. "That's a haul... we're gonna run out of gas for sure."

Both theories were confirmed when the caravan slowly pulled to a stop a few miles down the road. The RV was the group's greatest asset right now, and it needed gas if it was going to make the journey. Daryl volunteered what fuel was left in his truck, and Glen offered up the car he'd been driving. Everyone took a moment to stretch their legs while T-Dog and Rick worked to siphon gas and redistribute it to the RV and Carol's van. You packed your bag away in the RV while Daryl unloaded Merle's motorcycle. After a brief inspection, he stood and wiped his greasy hands on the front of his jeans. You stood in the shade by the RV and watched quietly as he fished a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his vest. He stuck one in his mouth unceremoniously; it hung loosely from his lips as he dug around for a lighter, but came up empty.

"Need a light?" You asked, holding out a dirty red bic. He sauntered over, plucking it from your hand. It was accompanied by another cigarette when he returned to your palm, and you couldn't help a smile as you brought it to your lips. "You ever ride a motorcycle?" He asked, looking you over. "Had an ex with a bike." You replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Ever fallen off?" He probed. You wiped the sweat from your forehead, simultaneously showing him a faint patch of scarred flesh on the outside of your arm. "Just once. Laid the bike down on a sharp turn, nothing too horrific." He touched the scar gently with a calloused fingertip, tracing the outline. "So you know what happens if you don't hang on tight and let me lead? 'Cause if you fall off your ass is going straight in the RV."

Turning on the heel of his boot, Daryl moved to toss a leg over the bike, motioning for you to hop on the back. You hesitated a moment, then placed a hand on his shoulder to steady your mount. He fired up the bike and an old familiar rush settled into your bones as the engine rumbled to life. You tightened your grip unconsciously as. "You don't have to hold on so tight." He grunted over his shoulder, sounding amused. "Shut up and ride, Dixon." You huffed, lifting your feet. After checking in with Glenn about the route, Daryl pulled put ahead to lead the way. He whooped, pumping his fist in the air as the bike got up to speed. The wind flew through your hair and eventually you relaxed your grip, enjoying what was left of the scenery along the highway.

Before long the open road became congested with abandoned and overturned vehicles, you had to abandon your sightseeing to focus on leaning with Daryl as he weaved the bike in and out of lanes. Eventually he came to a complete blockage and made a sudden stop. You gripped the seat with your thighs, bracing yourself against Daryl's back to keep from flying off the bike as it skid to a stop. You dismounted irritably. "Fucking hell Dixon, it's a motorcycle not a mechanical bull ride." You smacked his shoulder as he crowed with laughter.

Slowly, everyone trickled out of the van and RV. Dale, Shane, and Rick huddled around Glenn with the map, trying to decide if it was worth backtracking to the bypass. Restless, you began peeking in the windows of the many cars that littered the highway, searching for anything that could be useful. You possessed a natural curiosity that came in handy when scavenging, always checking the extra nooks and crannies other people overlooked. "If the people driving these cars were evacuating there could be some good supplies here!" You called out to the others as you dug through the side door of a dented van. 

"We could probably siphon some more fuel and spare parts from these cars, too" T-Dog suggested, wiping his brow. "Gather what you can, y'all." Shane instructed, prompting Lori and Carol to whisper about the ethics of plundering what was essentially a graveyard. You, on the other hand, had no problem taking what you needed, and shook out a suitcase of men's clothing to use as a 'shopping cart' as you opened trunks and dug through glove compartments.

You found several bottles of water and more snack food, all of which was promptly shoved inside the suitcase, along with a couple packs of cigarettes. The next car yielded some clothing roughly your size, and even better- clean underwear! You shoved the entire bag of undergarments into the suitcase along with a few shirts and pairs of sweatpants. Unfortunately, your perusal was cut short by the sound of a commotion behind you.

 

 

"Holy shit..." Your breath caught in your throat as you spotted a throng of corpses meandering down the highway. It was a group far larger than you'd ever seen before. You moved back slowly and quickly, pulse quickening as the familiar rush of adrenaline filled your veins. Taking Rick's lead, you crawled beneath the nearest car, slowing your breath as best you could. You stopped breathing altogether as the slow, drudging footsteps of the dead began to trek past your hiding place. You couldn't afford to call out for anyone, not even look around, move, or dare the risk of making a single sound as the herd passed through. Gravel dug painfully into your knees and palms as you lay tense beneath the car, fighting the urge to run until the dragging footsteps finally faded into the distance.  
  
The relief you felt was short lived, a desperate scream pierced the silence and you scrambled out from under your hiding place. The area surrounding you was clear for the time being and you darted towards the RV, when another set of cries rang out. You whirled about in time to see Rick run into the woods after a pair of walkers, but before you could investigate Daryl came forward from behind you with T-Dog in tow. One of them was bleeding profusely and you weren't sure which. An ache settled into your chest as you looked between them for the source of the blood. "What happened? Are you bit?"  
  
Daryl shrugged his leather vest off and pulled his shirt off quickly, tearing the fabric to make a crude tourniquet around T-Dog's arm. "He's cut, and its bad." He barked, hands slicked up to his forearms in the other man's blood. Rushing forward, you intercepted them, guiding T-Dog toward the RV just as Andrea stumbled out panting and covered in blood. "Are you okay?" You called, "T-Dog is cut really bad, we need the medkit quick, he'll need stitches!" Dale clambered down from atop the RV quickly as you hurried inside, stepping over the walker Andrea had presumably put down with the bloodied screwdriver that lay a few feet away. You yanked the medkit from the cabinet and ran back outside. Daryl pulled his vest back on and quickly turned his attention to Rick, who emerged from the woods alone.  
  
Carol was sobbing loudly, unable to be consoled by Lori, who was holding her in a tight embrace. Rick shouted for Daryl and the pair disappeared into the woods. Carl worriedly told you that Sophia had left her hiding place too soon and attracted the attention of some walkers that chased her into the woods. Rick had gone after her and led them away, but when he returned to the safe spot she was nowhere to be found. "Daryl can track her, I'm sure of it." He said earnestly. "I'm sure they'll find her buddy." You told him, hoping it was true. She was so young, she couldn't survive long on her own.  
  
Not wanting to sit around uselessly, you rallied Glen, Lori, and Shane to start clearing a path through the blockade of cars so that when Rick and Daryl returned with Sophia they could continue immediately to make up for lost time. You turned the keys in the ignition of a dented Saturn, it sputtered and coughed to life. The gauge was empty, but it had enough to work as a battering ram. Everyone stood clear as you used the ugly tan car to push another off the road into the shoulder. You grit your teeth and reversed, nudging another car back off the highway to create a wider gap. The engine cut off, and you swore, wiping the sweat from your eyes as you crawled out.  
  
"Good enough!" Shane called out as he  prepared to push another car clear. He steered one off to the side, tinkering with it after the path was clear.  The sun was setting, and you were starting to worry for Rick, Daryl, and Sophia alike. You doubled back to retrieve the suitcase you dropped earlier, stuffing it into the RV with your other bag. Lori and Shane seemed to be having a disagreement, but whatever they were arguing about was forgotten when a broadcast suddenly crackled through on the vehicle's radio.  
  
For a brief moment, hope flickered in everyone's chests. Hope that maybe society wasn't lost, that life could be reclaimed.  But it was false hope, as it always seemed to be lately; Shane recognized it as a broadcast on loop he'd already heard outside Atlanta. No one was really there. Carol's lip trembled, and she began to cry again. From atop the RV Glenn spotted Rick and Daryl emerging from the woods. Sophia wasn't with them.  
  
Carol ran breathlessly to confront them, and Daryl told her quietly that trail went cold. "You can't leave my baby out there in the dark!" Her cries echoed woefully over the desolate highway. Sophia wasn't dead but they hadn't found her before the sun set, so she might as well be. Eventually, Rick walked away, looking defeated, as the weeping mother was inconsolable. Carol ran past you for refuge inside the RV, biting back sobs as she did. For a brief moment you considered going in after her, but what could you say? Empty words would bring no comfort. You couldn't very well lie to her like you had to Carl, she was an adult, she knew better. 

  
Daryl wandered over after a minute, looking frustrated. "What happened out there?" You asked, pushing a scavenged pack of newports into his hand. He pushed it into his back pocket wordlessly, chewing his lower lip. "I tried to track her, but her footsteps were so small and erratic...humans don't move like aninals do. The sun started goin' down and then there was nothin' left to look at anymore." The man looked crushed. "Daryl..." you began, hesitating as you chose your words. "You did what you could, which is more than I or anyone else here probably could have done. We'll pick up the search in the morning and I'm positive we'll find her one way or another."  
  
'Another' being dead or turned. You prayed Carol never had to see her daughter like that.  Daryl was rubbing dried blood from his fingers with a repetitive wrenching motion that caught your attention. "Are you hurt?" You asked quietly. He shook his head. "Nah, came across a biter and gut it to be sure she wasn't..." He trailed off. "I'm not hurt."  
  
The sky was dark, and the rustling of the wind in the leaves felt ominous. "I'm gonna check on Carol." He said, tucking the bloody rag back into his vest. You nodded. "Think I'll try and get some sleep, the back of that SUV is looking real cozy right about now."  
  
With the truck abandoned and the RV at max capacity you had nowhere to sleep, but it was easy enough to clear out a vehicle for the night, and it was close by if anything went wrong during the night. You crawled inside and shut the trunk. It wasn't much, but it was safer than sleeping outside. Plus, you'd found some blankets and a couple pillows during your supply search earlier that day so with the back seats laid down it was comfortable enough. The night was deathly quiet; you longed for the white noise of a rainstorm as the dull ringing of your ears kept you in a state of tired half-sleep.  
  
Some time passed, and you were startled out of your rest by the sound of someone pulling open the trunk. Your eyes shot open- it was still dark. With little time to assess the situation, you kicked your foot out blindly, landing a solid blow to your would-be assailant. "Shit!" A male voice grunted, and your eyes adjusted enough to realize you'd just kicked Daryl in the stomach.

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry." You gasped. "Twitchy little rabbit." He mumbled, crawling in beside you. He pulled the trunk shut and curled on his side quietly. "How was Carol?" You asked quietly, unsure how much time had passed since you drifted off. Daryl sighed, picking at the upholstery. "Nothin anyone can do now to help but find that little girl. She's still in there cryin', I couldn't stand to hear it anymore." He admitted bitterly. "Said I was goin' out to look more but nobody's finding anything this late."  
  
You passed him a pillow wordlessly, and he shoved it behind his head with another heavy sigh. There was a heavy silence in the air, and you debated whether or not to leave it be, but the statement he'd given you early that morning was still burning a hole in your brain. Daryl didn't appear to be a day older than 30, if that. How young did he think you were to assume he was too old? More importantly, why did he care? It wasn't like the normal morés of society were still in place.   
  
"How old do you think I am Daryl?" You asked finally, thinking he'd fallen asleep when he didn't answer right away. "I dunno, like 19? 20?" He replied, still facing away from you. A soft laugh bubbled from your chest, sounding almost foreign as it escaped you. "I'm 25." You told him, rolling on your back to stare up at the worn tan ceiling of the SUV. "Are you really too old for me or do you just not like me?" Daryl turned over to face you, eyes half shut as his tired gaze bore into your own. "I like you plenty, I guess." He mumbled, running his fingers over the hair on the back of his head.  "Are you too old for me?" You pressed, propping yourself up on your elbow. "Nah, I guess not." He admitted sheepishly, looking down at the blankets.  
  
"Was last night... bad?" Perhaps that was it, he didn't enjoy it as much as you had and was trying to let you down easy. Daryl's stony expression broke into a small grin. "C'mon, give yourself some credit." He chuckled softly, reaching forward to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Your cheeks felt hot suddenly, despite the stifling air that hung inside the vehicle. "You left so quick this morning that I thought-"  
  
His lips were pressed against yours suddenly, albeit a bit forcefully, and any words you had left to say vanished. "It was fucking amazing sex, that ain't the part I was worried about." He assured, resting his sweaty forehead against yours gently. "What are you worried about?" You whispered softly. "The part that comes after." He turned away, flopping back down onto the pillow to cover his face with his hands in frustration. "I ain't good with girls, not like this."    
  
"Last night was good," you teased gently, but Daryl didn't smile. "I've fucked plenty of girls," he said bluntly, "But I wasn't good for any of 'em. I didn't treat any of 'em right." Daryl sighed. "Pump and Dump. That's what Merle used to call it." You snorted. "I told you this morning I wasn't your girlfriend Dixon, and I don't recall you asking me out between 'the pump' and now so...you can't dump me. Cycle broken, you're welcome."  
  
He smiled, but it was different than his trademark smirk, it seemed more vunerable, unsure. "Y'know, you're a hell of a lot more interesting than the girls I used to sleep with." He mumbled, suddenly wrapping you up in a tight bear hug. "Who says I'll sleep with you again?" You taunted softly, meeting his soft blue eyes with a smile. He didn't smell like soap anymore, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. "I think you will," Daryl replied confidently, giving your ass a playful squeeze. "We'll see, Dixon~ How about you give me a good snuggle tonight and I'll get back to you on that," you replied, nestling your face up into the crook of his neck to plant a small kiss against the stubbled underside of his jaw.  
  
Daryl exhaled softly, allowing himself to relax, if only a little. It was safe locked inside the car, and a comfort to have someone so close; you felt protected- even if you weren't sure what to make of the budding relationship. His arm moved around you slowly, and you slowly let your eyes fall shut. Your head lay comfortably against his chest, and the steady beat of his heart lulled you to sleep.

END CHAPTER ELEVEN

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